Follow You Down
by writergrrrl
Summary: Seraphim O'Roarke is a small town girl with a love of books and plans to get the hell out of Georgia. That, however, was before the dead started to get back up. Now, she's trying to make her way in this new reality. Meeting up with the Atlanta group, she is able to find herself and to help others become who they were always meant to be. Daryl/OC Rated M, because I'm smutty.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, all. I love the Walking Dead, and thought I'd give writing for it a shot. I'm not going to be grandiose and say that 'this isn't going to be like every Daryl/OC story out there'. I just hope you find it enjoyable and well-written. To that end: Constructive criticism is always welcome, hiding behind anonymous reviews says more about you than about my abilities, and if you have suggestions please let me know. **

**I own nothing but my original character.**

Spring in Georgia waltzes in like a debutant, all white gloves and pretty pink hues. By the time the summer really gets going, it is more like the tired waitress at a busy all-night diner: sticky, smelly, and far too busy and hot to be concerned about appearances. The breeze did nothing to quell the unrelenting sun's rays or the pressing dampness of the humid air, making Seraphim feel as if she were breathing her own sweat.

She had only come into the city to hit the sporting goods store for some supplies, but thought she would check to see what she could find as far as clothing and supplementary food was concerned. Hunting was good, with squirrels and rabbits being plentiful, so she wasn't all that worried about sustaining herself. One person was easy to feed, after all, and Seraphim wasn't what anyone would call picky. The hunting section of her first stop yielded some much-needed ammo for both of her guns and her two bows along with some other things that she had come to look at as essential. The combination sun screen and bug repellant was doing its job, and for that she was grateful. Exceedingly pale skin and late July sun just didn't mingle well.

It had been relatively uneventful as far as a trip into the city went, with only three walkers bumping into displays at the store and two following her in the street until she put them down. Seraphim caught sight of the four men as they made their way down an alley and swung up onto a nearby fire escape to observe them. While she did not know them, Seraphim saw no reason not to provide some unknown backup. Even so, she was well aware that they could present a problem to her if they caused too much noise with so many walkers around or thought they could take advantage of her.

Minutes after they entered the store, she heard shouting from the roof and rolled her eyes. "Way to be stealthy there, guys."

The thick paint coating the metal rungs of her perch had begun to puff and peal, and Seraphim imagined she could hear it crackle in the too-bright summer heat while she waited to see where the men would go when they left the store. They had come from the west, though that did little to indicate any future movement. Why would a group of men come into an infested city only to stop at one department store when there were far more useful locations a block away? A low moan drew her eyes to the sidewalk a story below, and Seraphim realized that she was drawing some unwanted attention from some of the city's less living inhabitants.

The man stretching his arms above his head toward her seated form had once been an attractive firefighter. His white and red uniform shirt had been torn to shreds revealing massive arms and the remnants of a truly impressive set of pectorals. One suspender held his heavy fireproof pants in place on narrow hips. Seraphim found herself sighing as she realized that he looked like some sort of zombie parody of a romance novel cover.

"It figures that it'd take an apocalypse for a good looking, well-built man to reach for me." Seraphim scoffed and moved to stand as more former people noticed her and the firefighter starting moaning and bumping into the side of the building. "Fuck off, Sparky. I ain't in the mood."

Reaching the roof took twice as long as normal, as the packs she carried weighed her down quite a bit. Far from winded, she couldn't help but flex just a bit and smirk. "Crossfit, bitches."

Catching a flash of movement across the street, she realized it was the back of one of the men moving down the alley. If they were heading back to the west, she was free to move to the north and back to the woods. As the back of the building was walker free, Seraphim easily exited the roof and checked her weapons before readying her long handled hatchet. She began making her way along the shaded, quiet backstreet. The slight shift of boots on concrete drew her attention, and she swung around a corner into a cross alley ready to take out whatever walkers she could.

The sight of a shotgun aimed at her face left her momentarily nonplused. The large black man holding the weapon was one she saw earlier, but why was he here and not with the others? "Who're you?"

"Who the hell are you?!" The man's eyes creased in anger and confusion while a slender man in a deputy sheriff's uniform appeared over his shoulder.

Before she could answer, the muffled sounds of shouting bounced off the buildings. A glance passed between the men, and then they were running in the direction of their friends. Seraphim threaded her hatchet into its loop on her belt before running to catch up, pulling her crossbow from over her shoulder as she moved. In this new world, she was decidedly Team Human and wasn't going to leave these inept men to fend for themselves.

The scene she jogged into was interesting, if not slightly confusing. The man with the crossbow was shouting at a Hispanic teenager while the others pulled him away. Seeing the gate blocking any walkers from the head of the alley, Seraphim swiveled to watch the other end. "You boys take your time, I got this end!"

"Who the hell is this bitch?!" The rough accent of a true boy from the south rumbled down her spine, and Seraphim didn't bother to fight a smile.

"Seraphim O'Roarke from up Dawsonville way." As she spoke, Seraphim put an arrow through the eye of a walker slowly making its way toward them. She cast a quick glance around the corner as she retrieved her used bolt. "Unless you guys want to start shooting, we need to find us an elsewhere to be."

The Andy Griffith wannabe saw the three corpses shambling past her recent kill and ordered everyone into the building. Seraphim let them push the mumbling boy through the window before she followed suit. She only had to take out one of the now nine approaching creepers between tossing her packs through the opening. Pulling herself through the window, she came nose to arrow with the business end of a rather impressive crossbow.

"Nice," moving slowly, the woman slowly put her weapons on the nearby table. "Is that a Horton?"

"Shut up." Her captor glowered at her, his brow only slightly raising at the sight of her full quiver and the crossbow she pulled from her back to join the knives, hatchet, and various firearms already resting on the table.

"Daryl," the man in the cop uniform came to stand beside the brawny hunter. "She had our back out there, and we have bigger problems."

"How'd we know she ain't with them?"

A hostile voice sounded from the other side of the room. "She **look** like someone who would roll with us, _bruja_?"

Seraphim didn't take her eyes off the immediate threat in front of her while she smirked. "I bet you don't have the balls to call him that in English."

"What'd he call me?"

"Take the weapon off me, and I'll tell you." Seraphim blinked innocently in the cop's direction. "I just followed you because I heard the shouting and thought I could help. No offense, but I'm not in the mood for so much damn bitching and drama."

With an inelegant snort, the officer ordered Daryl to lower the weapon. "I'm Rick Grimes. This is Daryl, there's T-Dog, and our missing friend is Glenn."

"Can I have my stuff back?" Seraphim hadn't wanted to assume she wouldn't be shot for taking her possessions back, but hated being unarmed. At Daryl's nod, she began feeding things back into holsters and loops.

Daryl's voice was gruff and low when he joined her at the table while glaring at the boy across the room. "What'd the little asshole call me?"

"He called you a bitch."

"Son of a whore!" Daryl pointed menacingly across the room at the man before turning his scowl back to Seraphim. "You date a Spic or somethin'? You're whiter than Casper."

"Nah, took two years of it back in high school. Can't 'member most of it, but I still remember some of the curse words."

Daryl managed a smirk before he went to talk with their captive. Seraphim had a feeling it wasn't going to be nearly as calm as their little discussion. Rick managed to keep the peace, however, and they soon knew where they had to go.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi everyone! I would like to thank Demi187 (first reviewer!), AshleyEliza (thanks for the language correction, hun), Lorem tenebrae, and FanFicGirl10 for the reviews. Thank you to everyone who has favorited and followed, as well. I did not want to follow the show word-for-word, as that gets boring after a dozen stories or so, and I am more interested in the workings of Seraphim's mind. Please let me know if you would like more show dialogue, and I will attempt to include more. **

Seraphim wasn't sure what to think of the Hispanic men in front of her. While they looked tough enough, only a few carried guns while the others made due with bats or tools. The man Daryl had shot in the ass, Filipe, spoke as if he knew how to handle himself on the street, but was quick to look to "G" for orders. Guillermo, or "G", was a bit different as well. Seraphim saw the way he looked at Rick and Daryl as a threat, yet the vocabulary he employed was far too advanced for any street-level thug she had ever encountered, few as that number was. Their first meeting having failed, Rick made the decision to come back "locked and loaded", as he had said. Seraphim was given the option to leave, as she had no attachment to Glenn and nothing holding her there, but she refused on the grounds that these men seemed decent and in need of help.

"Besides," Seraphim checked the Mossberg she held in her hands before selecting shells. "Something's up with those guys, and I want to see what it is."

"You're willing to get yourself killed over wanting an answer?" Daryl shook his head and began feeding shells into the Remington 870 in his hands.

The redhead finished what she was doing before meeting Daryl's confused expression with a straight face. "Meow."

"Plannin' on dyin' today, girl?"

"Nah, got too much ta do 'fore I go layin' down somewhere." The .357 was the exact model Smith & Wesson her father favored, and Seraphim spun the chamber once before sliding it into her waistband. "Let's get this done."

The group moved quickly into the shadowy garage, and right into a standoff with the Vatos. Seraphim held steady while Rick made his demands, ignoring the looks sent her way by some of the younger men. They were heated gazes; as if the men were silently debating how her hair would feel in their fingers, what she would sound like in the deep, quiet night. She had gotten the same looks for as long as she could remember from men who had not earned the right, and she was used to ignoring them.

"What're you lookin' at?" Daryl shifted very slightly closer to her side, his sights set on a particularly leery, younger boy. "Best find somewhere else for those eyes, or I will."

The kid found something else to look at, and Seraphim realized that it was an old woman moving through the crowd. She fussed at Rick for a moment, clearly not understanding the direness of the situation, until the deputy training came to the fore and he convinced her to take him to their "missing" friend. Flipping the safety on her shotgun, Seraphim rested it on her shoulder and fell in line between T-Dog and Daryl.

T-Dog greeted a young, frightened Korean man, and Rick pulled Guillermo aside to chastise the other man's foolish behavior. Daryl and Seraphim moved to the side, staying out of the way of those moving around the room and keeping an eye on both the people and the entrances. With a silent jut of his chin, Daryl directed her eyes to the left while he took the more occupied right.

Less than an hour later, Seraphim was wrapping a bandana around her head and tying it under her braid as she walked quietly beside T-Dog. Glenn glanced over at her. "So, Seraphim, huh?"

"Yeah?" Her brows pulled down sharply behind the dark lenses she wore.

"Like in _Dogma_?"

Throwing her head back, Seraphim attempted to keep her laughter from echoing off the surrounding buildings. "Somethin' like that. Got all my parts, though."

"The hell you talking about?" Daryl's grown was angry and much closer than she had anticipated him to be.

"In the movie _Dogma_, they talk about seraphim being the highest choir of angels." Glenn glanced around at the older men as the group came to a stop. It was quickly apparent that Kevin Smith movies were not something they had in common. "I thought the single form was seraph, though."

Glancing around to check that the area was empty of walkers, Seraphim pulled a pack of Marlboro Reds from her shirt pocket. After offering one to the others, and lighting the one Daryl accepted, she grinned around her own. "It is. Daddy told Ma that havin' one girl was just as much trouble as havin' a whole mess of 'em. When I came out with all this red hair, he said I looked like an angel was set on fire. Ma named me 'Seraphim' for a whole mess of fiery angels."

"Your mom sounds like she had a sense of humor." Rick spoke quietly, obviously unsure how delicate the subject may be.

"That she did, 'fore Daddy lost his job and found the bottle." Feeling the familiar tightness between her shoulders, Seraphim knew she had opened herself up enough for one day. Shrugging her packs on, and the feeling off, she checked the safeties on the firearms and handed them back to Rick. "This is my stop. Ya'll best be getting' back b'fore it gets too dark to see."

Rick slid the Mossberg and the Remington back in the duffle with the others. "And you're sure you'll be okay getting back to your people?"

"Ain't got no people. Just me." Making a quick decision, Seraphim dug the full pack of cigarettes out of her side pocket and slipped them into the breast pocket of Daryl's sleeveless flannel. "And, I'll be fine."

"You could come back with us." Glenn shifted his weight before fussing with his hat. "There are women and kids there, not just men. And safety in numbers, right?"

"That safety in numbers thing only works when dealing with rapists and church ladies. I'm better on my own. I'm easy to feed, and got no one to look after."

"Sounds nice." Daryl was checking over his crossbow before readying a bolt. "Gets tiring bein' the only one to hunt for a group."

"Well, I could deal with a second set of eyes for lookout if you ever want a break." The suppressed Berettas fit her hands wonderfully, and Seraphim took a moment to feel saddened that she couldn't use them more often. Ammunition was a limited resource, however, and she conserved it whenever she was able. Leaving the city alone would mean speed, and she didn't want to risk having to leave bolts or arrows behind. "I'm north of the city, off an old logging road. Should be able to track me in if you're worth your salt."

Daryl eyes her guns for a moment before flicking his eyes over the empty street behind her. "May take you up on that."

"We're over by the old quarry if you need to leave your camp for whatever reason." Rick was very obviously nervous. "It's not exactly safe for women to be on their own."

"When has it ever been?" Serphim raised the Beretta in her right hand as a sort of salute. "Ya'll be careful."

"Be careful." Daryl nodded back and turned to head back to the box truck they had arrived in that morning.

"Are we really just going to let her walk away?" Glenn was bouncing as he walked, perpetually on the edge of a jog, as if he were simply waiting on someone to tell him to go after her. "She seems to know what she's doing, how to hunt, and had our backs in there."

"Not gunna force someone to put up with that group." Daryl spit to the side as they walked.

If the others felt differently, they kept it to themselves.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for the reviews. This chapter isn't long on dialogue, but I hope the action makes up for it. I wanted to give some insight on Seraphim, how she thinks, and maybe a little about her character. Let me know what you think!**

Seraphim crouched beside the abandoned gas station and judged the distance between herself and the new Jeep in the middle of the parking lot about a block away. She had recently acquired the deep green Jeep Rubicon from a local dealership. The owner of the place had been bumping around in his office when she walked into the shop for the keys, so she highly doubted he would mind if she helped herself. After she took care of him and pulled the Jeep into the garage, Seraphim had free run of the place and had taken full advantage.

She had actually been very shocked to see that the entire business had not been looted of all useful materials long before she arrived. There were cars, tools, and replacement parts just sitting around the garage bays in boxes. The fencing, sheet metal, and various bits of wood could be used to reinforce doors or windows against anyone attempting to enter. Seraphim had made certain to check over every line and hose she could see on the diagrams to make sure they wouldn't need replaced any time soon.

The garage's small generator had been a particularly pleasant surprise, but she was more than happy to use it to power the air gun. Seraphim knew she wouldn't have been able to do any of the work without the generator, doors that closed securely, and the instructions that came with the suspension kit. The hoses and lines had caused her some trouble, but she had been able to locate and employ the repair manual, stashing it inside the vehicle itself for future issues. Changing the regular tires in favor of the huge, 20 inch, off-roading tires were the easiest part of that whole ordeal, but the results were worth it. The tires and lift kit added to the vehicle's overall height, and made it perfect for making it through the Georgia woods, even in the worst rains.

The packs were weighing on her shoulders and smacked against her spine if she moved too quickly, but were not unmanageable for such a short trek. At this point, if she could stand she could run. Her conditioning wasn't the issue, nor was the load she carried. After all, her Crossfit class had had her running longer distances with two hundred pound men on her shoulders for the past two years. No, the problem she currently faced was far more worrying than something as trivial as forty or fifty extra pounds.

There were ten or twelve walkers shuffling about between her current location and the Jeep, and she had not been anticipating that. Her normal mode of operating was to run and hide if a group of geeks was too large for her to handle, and to wait as quietly as possible until they had passed. She could quick draw for her compound bow, and was able to put down a group of five before, but that was unobstructed by the weight of a pack, and there were over twice that many in front of her. She could use the Berettas, but that would mean using already rare ammunition she couldn't afford lose.

If she abandoned the guns in favor of the compound or crossbow, she would have to make sure every walker in the area was put down permanently before she began to gather her bolts and arrows. That was risky at the best of times, and standing in the middle of the street in a walker-infested city was _far_ from the best of times. Even if she fired as she ran, threw her packs in through the open window, and then circled around the block on foot, she risked drawing _more_ walkers to her instead of leading the current group away. However, it was as good a backup plan as she was going to come up with before nightfall.

"Okay, think." Speaking to herself out loud always helped Seraphim solidify her thoughts and make the hard decisions. "What can you use?"

Breathing deeply, she surveyed her surroundings for anything useful. A car parked not far away would give her coverage if she could get to it without being seen. An overturned dumpster at the head of an alley was another waypoint. If her luck held, she would have a thirty foot sprint from the dumpster to the edge of the parking lot, and then another twenty or thirty to the Jeep. The shufflers were not fast on the uptake, and she should be able to get the door unlocked quickly. Would she be able to fit both herself and her bags in before they reached her? That she wasn't sure of, but it was time to find out. If she lost too much more light, she would be stuck in the city until morning, and that wasn't something she wanted to do.

"You've got this." Seraphim tucked the long red braid under the back of her shirt and tightened the packs. Holstering one of the Berettas, she drew the wicked looking multi-tool ax from its loop. She had another at camp, and would not mourn its loss too greatly if she was forced to leave it behind. "C'mon, where's the tough bitch? Let's move."

Rising, she glanced around and then ran, stooped over, to the car. None of the walkers moaned or came shuffling in her direction. Allowing herself time for one deep breath, she sent herself crouch-skidding into the side of the dumpster. The alley to its rear was a dead end, and nothing moved down its shadowed length. From the new angle, Seraphim could see the parking lot around her Jeep far more clearly, including the two walkers currently bumping around in the attendant booth.

Sliding the Beretta into the holster on her thigh, she slid the keys from her pocket and readied them. Seraphim smirked when the action called forth a memory of the self-defense class her mother had dragged her to when she started junior high. The instructor, a middle-aged woman who looked like she was far more familiar with the inside of a donut shop than a gym, had told them to always have keys in hand when entering a parking lot so they could keep an eye out for threats. _Lady, if you only knew._

"Okay. Only thirty feet till the lot. Get to the car, and you're safe." Seraphim adjusted her grip on the ax. "We're gonna count down and go."

Seraphim took two deep breaths as she moved down the length of the dumpster. Once she was as close as she was going to get while staying covered, she clenched her jaw and set her feet. "Three. Two. One. Go!"

Shooting out of the mouth of the alley, she moved fifteen feet before any of the walkers saw her and began moving in her direction, moaning in anticipation of their next meal. A woman dragging her right leg was nearly within arm's reach, and Seraphim put the ax through her forehead. It made a cracking, slurping sound when she jerked it free, and Seraphim promised herself she could be sick later. She was halfway to the lot, and couldn't stop yet.

Her boots made purchase on the sidewalk before another one got close enough to be a problem. The man was swinging his arms as he came, making a clean blow to the head more difficult than if he were simply stumbling along. Seraphim dodged to the side and swung at an angle. Without warning, the ax's curved blade somehow became lodged in his orbital bone, and she left it behind. There were two more moving in, and she couldn't afford to stop. She would have to use her gun.

The closer of the two walkers had been no more than sixteen or seventeen when he died the first time. His face still showed signs of acne, even though the skin around his nose had been savagely ripped and chewed apart. His thick glasses were still in place, held there by a wide band. Seraphim almost felt a twinge of sorrow that the boy would never know how good life could be as she took aim and fired.

The shot went low, catching him in the lower jaw. While his head jerked violently to the side, the walker was quick to recover and moved toward her unsteadily. Cursing, she refocused and was able to put her next round through his right eye. Handguns had always given her issues with aim, and she made another promise to herself to practice a little more before she shoved the first pack through the open passenger window.

Seraphim was shoving against the second pack, trying to wedge it into the passenger seat, when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. A crawler was sliding out from under a truck just to her right. A shadow to her left let her know that the crawler was closer, though she could hear move slowly moving in from behind. Dodging to the left, Seraphim sprinted around the back of the Jeep.

"Hey, you dead motherfuckers!" Seraphim waved her arms and shouted at the slowly gathering crowd. When they began to follow her down the alley, she turned and jogged ahead of the group. "Follow me until I can circle back and drive away. C'mon, assholes, it's time for a jog."

Once she had lead them down an alley, Seraphim jumped and grabbed the bottom of a fire escape. Jogging across the roof was nothing, and the space between the building and her car was barren of any movement other than some trash skittering across the pavement in the breeze. Not stopping to congratulate herself or think about the possibility of one of the dead turning back the way they came, she ran down the stairs as fast as she could and made the parking lot in moments. Sprinting the distance from the building to the car, she slid into the driver's seat, cranked the engine, and sped out of town.

There was a moment of indecision as she came to a crossroads. Left would take her to a quarry that was apparently not as abandoned as she had formerly believed. Right, and she would arrive at her own solitary camp in a little under half an hour. The first would lead to people to speak to and others to keep watch while she got some sleep, while the latter meant more nights of no sleep, eating squirrel or coon beside a small fire, and living a life of quiet desperation. With a quick glance to the left, Seraphim made her decision.

She had always been better on her own, anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

**I have a few links to share in dealing with this chapter. I have used solar ovens while camping and at festivals for a few years now, and thought they would be great additions to anyone's end-of-the-world camp. Information on how to build a simple one can be found here (remember to remove spaces: diy solar. Dasolar group /diy solar oven**

**Instructions on how to make Seraphim's alarms can be found at this link (remove spaces) **** www .you tube watch ?v= Vt _ Z U**

**Here, the Anne I mention is from the Anne of Green Gables series by the wonderful Lucy Maude Montgomery. I loved her novels as a young girl and often revisit them when life gets to be too much.**

It had been almost two days since Seraphim had returned to her camp after the run to Atlanta. True to the promise she had made herself, she had driven out of the city, found a secluded spot free from walkers, opened and leaned out her door, and promptly emptied her stomach all over the asphalt that was already beginning to show signs of deterioration. She didn't think she would ever get used to the sound of an ax blade sinking into a person's skull. Hell, she didn't really think she _wanted_ to get used to it. Seraphim knew she would deal with this new world as it came, but there was no way she would ever get comfortable with it.

It's funny how knowing there were other people not far away made the hours drag, when they passed easily enough not three days before. Seraphim was used to doing whatever needed done around her acquired fire tower before finding a comfortable place to sit and read. Always a voracious reader, the ending of the world had given her far more free time to get lost with Tom Sawyer, learn to be a wizard with Harry, or fall in love with Mr. Darcy. She would pick up books whenever she had a chance, dropping those she had read in various houses, stores, or (once) the men's room of a Starbucks when she had been pinned in for the night. Now, however, she could picture the women and kids of the Mayberry group (the Andy Griffith comparison refused to fade from her mind) doing chores around camp while the men kept watch or hunted. Even though she wouldn't be comfortable hanging around with people she didn't know, Seraphim couldn't help but think that it would sure be nice to have a bit of company from time to time.

The first night back at camp had been spent organizing and arranging the supplies brought back from Atlanta. Medical supplies were divided up as evenly as possible between each of her bags with the pockets marked with a red cross in Sharpie. She had gotten comfortable in the tower, its panoramic windows offering a perfect lookout for danger from both the living and the living dead, but Seraphim still maintained a supply of food, water, clothing, and camping equipment in the Jeep. There was no point in getting so comfortable that she became sloppy and stupid. Her father always said that "stupid got people killed", and she thought this situation called more for his military training than anything she could give.

After arranging her supplies, Seraphim settled in to her normal evening routine. Dinner consisted of a squirrel and lentil stew with some bread made in her solar oven. Her father and older brother had been survivalists, and she had been interested enough to help her figure out how to make a warning signal from a keychain alarm and a wire. While the alarms would cause more infected to move into her area until they were shut down, it was the only way she was able to get any sleep. The alarms surrounded the tower at twenty foot intervals, and she checked each one carefully before baiting her hooks and running a trotline in the small stream.

It was after her evening checks, when she was settling into the camp cot with her solar lamp to see if Miss Anne Shirley would ever regain her "bosom friend", that she heard what sounded like faint gunshots. Seraphim thought they were a fair distance away, though she spent an hour sitting on the landing listening for more, the ladder steps drew up to prevent invasion. She fought the urge to attempt to find the group's quarry in the dark, knowing she would be better off waiting until morning. There was no way for her to tell if the shots came from their camp, and she was certain that an unfamiliar vehicle rolling up on any camp would draw ire. An unfamiliar vehicle at night would probably result in a dead driver before names were even exchanged.

Early the next morning, Seraphim discovered several fish heads on the line with a few strands of meat still clinging to the bones. Turtles had made a late night snack of any fish that had been on the line.

"Well. . . shit." Seraphim growled in frustration. Those fish were to be an offering of friendship as well as a really decent, non-squirrel, dinner for herself. "Little bastards. Go git yer own breakfast!"

Well, there was nothing else for it. She'd have to go empty handed, which went against everything her upbringing had taught her. Maybe they would appreciate some of the medical supplies, though. She had quite a bit extra for just herself, and a group that size was bound to go through more.

A sudden piercing squeal cut through the clearing, and Seraphim instinctively ducked before spinning toward the source. One of her wires had been tripped. A squirrel had done the same thing nearly a week ago, so Seraphim wasn't too concerned as she drew an arrow and readied the sleek green compound bow. The second alarm wailing from across the camp drew her up short and she stopped breathing as she paused to listen for sounds in the underbrush.

The low groan was hauntingly familiar, and she didn't stop to look before bolting up the stairs of the tower's platform. Wheeling around, Seraphim grasped the ladder chains and drew the steps off the ground and onto the cement in front of her. Breathing heavily, she slid through the door and flicked her eyes over the windows. The small road was empty, a squirrel hopped across the open area quickly before scurrying up the trunk of a tree, and a coyote yipped somewhere over the hill. It looked peaceful and idyllic, but Seraphim knew it was about to be anything but.

The thing that stepped into the clearing had once been a teenaged girl, her stringy brown hair hanging down the back of a track and field t-shirt in a tangle of dirt and twigs. She walked slowly, one knee not quite wanting to support her weight. Her head hung at a sharp angle, bone and gristle protruded from the right side, twisting and rubbing gruesomely with each step. Everything else was still under the whine of the alarms, and Seraphim began to wonder if the walker hadn't managed to somehow trip both wires on her own.

The alarms died in protesting squawks, and Seraphim knew she was about to have a lot more company than the single walker before her. The next figure to stumble from the woods came from the opposite side of the clearing, his left leg dragging uselessly behind him. His moans raised high into the morning light, reaching Seraphim in her perch. A rather overweight man stepped almost gracefully from the shadows behind him, while an older woman followed the young girl into the space around the Jeep. Seraphim watched as figure after figure, the open area became full of walkers.

"Crap. Crap, crap, crap." Seraphim moved to sit on the camp bed while she thought.

There were too many for her to take out and still have any sort of ammunition to take on the road. And that was if you went with the highly unlikely assumption that she would make a clean headshot each time she pulled the trigger. While she was excellent with the compound bow (she had various awards and trophy kills back home to prove it), Seraphim had always had issues with the crossbow or any handgun, with the shots normally landing just a bit too low the first time around. The shotguns were all stored in the back seat of the Jeep. Looking around, Seraphim realized that she would have to stay confined to the tower while the horde moved through.

"I just have to be still and not draw any attention to myself. And, at least they won't steal anything." She winced as she heard what sounded like her camp stove being tipped over. "Just hope I'm able to fix up all the stuff they break."

She had been thrilled to find that the small sink in the tower was an old pump and fed from a spring, though having a few days' worth of food in the tower had seemed a little paranoid at the time, but now she was extremely glad that she bowed to her mother's wisdom. She had heard the soft sound of her mom's voice advising her that "a windy day is not the day for thatching", and had made all the preparations for disaster that she could. Her momma always did give the best advice.

The realization of her complete isolation and ineffective weaponry set in quickly, and Seraphim decided that she needed to find something to do that would keep her occupied between watching the movements below. With a heaving sigh, Seraphim set about brushing the red curls the fell to her hips before braiding and pinning it into a bun at the back of her head. That done, she walked as quietly as she could to the corner where her emergency supplies were stacked. A protein bar and some canned fruit made a decent enough breakfast, and she reclined on the cot to read for a few chapters before rising to survey the activity below.

Judging from the slow, circling steps, it was going to be a long day.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for the reviews, though more wouldn't hurt ;) Special thanks to FanFicFirl10 and MollyMayhem84 for the advice. There's a little bit from the others in this chapter. They'll pop up from time to time from here on out because I'm going to play with the timeline a bit. **

_**Please review and give me your thoughts and ask questions. It helps focus me.**_

There was nothing to do but read, watch, nibble, and sleep.

For an entire day, Seraphim moved as quietly as possible in the two room tower. The small bathroom containing a toilet and a sink was a blessing that she gave thanks for every time she had to visit, though she flushed only when absolutely necessary to cut down on noise. She ate sparingly, and still had a decent supply. Water was not going to be an issue as long as the pump worked. _Anne of Green Gables_ had been read and one from the Black Dagger Brotherhood series as well when she needed a bit of a change. When she finished reading, close to evening with the sun pouring through the western windows like warm summer honey, Seraphim again took stock of her surroundings.

Nearly three dozen walkers ambled around the ground below, and Seraphim knew that there was no point even attempting to take some of them out. It would just waist ammo, and she wouldn't even make it to the Jeep. There was food enough for three more days, six if she was very careful. The boredom would get oppressive, but she could physically make it that long just fine. If she waited quietly enough, they would eventually start to move on in search of food. Taking down up to a dozen of them from the tower would be a cake walk, and Seraphim didn't want to have to leave the supplies resting below if it wasn't absolutely necessary. Only one window, the one over the cot, opened quietly, and she cracked it before lighting her first cigarette of the evening.

"Okay, Seraphim," she finally admitted she wasn't going anywhere until at least dawn and began removing her boots. "What're we gonna do for the rest of the night? Got a few more books ta read, can play some solitaire, or do some mendin'."

Deciding on the latter, she moved to the duffle bag that contained clothes that needed to be fixed, a pair of jeans with the knees in disrepair and a few shirts that may or may not be salvageable, and began sorting through the articles until her hand met soft wool.

She had taken the raw, brushed lamb's wool from a craft store in a fit of whimsy, with the thought that she may be safe enough to work with it someday. Now, she was grateful for the nearly half a pound of raw material and the small wooden drop spindle she'd also nabbed. It took her nearly an hour to get the wool to twist and twirl the way she remembered her grandmother doing, but she was eventually satisfied. With any luck, she'd be able to find some knitting needles and really get something put together in time for the winter months. Besides that, she at least had something to do for the rest of the evening.

Across the city, deep in the recesses of the CDC, Seraphim was on the minds of a few people while Rick Grimes was proposing a toast to Dr. Jenner. Glenn had made a case for looking for Seraphim on the grounds that there were bound to be more walkers in the woods, she needed to at least be warned, and that she would be an asset in their travels. He had been outvoted, though, in order to bring Jim to help more quickly. T-Dog thought they should at least try to leave her a note in case she came looking for them, though he secretly doubted she would ever leave the relative safety that her own camp must offer in order to seek out a band of people she barely knew from Adam. Daryl had been indifferent to the situation, though he figured she could fend for herself pretty easily, she'd been doing it long enough. Rick had agreed with them all on some level, and had allowed T-Dog and Glenn to write her a note just in case.

The women had all been curious about the girl as well, though none of the men were able to tell them enough about her. Women were creatures of description, after all, and all the men could say was that she was "kinda pretty" and that she "wasn't stupid". The first being Glenn and T's assessments, and the latter coming from Daryl. Carol and Lori had raised eyebrows at this, but decided that any girl who would go it alone rather than join a good, civilized group like theirs' was someone they wouldn't care to meet.

Daryl didn't spend much time thinking on the girl they'd shared an afternoon with, though he figured she was a damn sight better than the dumb bitches in the group. She'd known how to handle her weapons, didn't talk just to hear her own voice, and must be a passable hunter to have looked after herself for this long. The girl was thin, but she wasn't starving by a long shot. Also, she'd given him a whole pack of smokes, which was pretty decent of her.

"Think we did the right thing?" Glenn glanced around to make sure no one overheard his question to T-Dog and Daryl. "I feel bad that we're here, eating all this food and getting drunk while we know where another person is going without."

"World's same's it always was." Daryl took a pull of his bottle of Southern Comfort before shoveling a few more mouthfuls of food. "Just more people doing without."

T-Dog nodded a little sadly and spooned more food onto his plate. "Hear that."

"Think we could go back for her?" The young Korean questioned softly. "After we've had a chance to eat and rest up, I mean."

"Sure, man, why not?" T-Dog was always willing to share and help out where he could.

Daryl merely snorted softly. "Should've come with us when she had the chance. That's on her."

The conversation dissolved from there, its members melding into other discussions or into their respective bottles. Glenn was feeling guilty, T-Dog was enjoying the bit of normalcy, and Daryl was well on his way to achieving his goal of becoming absolutely shitfaced drunk. As far as evenings went, they had had far worse.

Morning light was just beginning to tint the world in soft pinks and blues, a light fog hugging the bottoms of trees, when Seraphim rose from her light, dreamless slumber. The mist swirled about the feet of the walkers below, making her think of dancers moving through a routine. None of them looked to her spot in the fire tower, and she was glad that she could at least continue to use the small solar lamp. A quick count revealed than around ten of the walkers that had been present last night were no longer in the clearing, though that did not mean they weren't close by. A sigh thick with disappointment and heavy with care escaped her when she realized that she would be spending another day inside the cramped room.

Nearly four hours, half a pack of cigarettes, and almost a full book later, a bright yellow light in the sky to the southeast caught her attention. A moment later, her sanctuary swayed slightly and a thunderous boom rippled its way over the mountains. The windows stayed intact, for which she was happy, and the tower stopped moving quickly. At once, excited wails sounded from below, and Seraphim moved as close to a window as she dared in order to see the stumbling forms.

Slowly, as if some were able to track sounds better than others, the walkers began to leave the area around the tower, some bumping against its supports as they focused on what was now an obvious explosion and fire. The girl with the broken neck was the first to move, now struggling on a knee that now refused to function entirely, forcing her to push herself along the ground. A businessman in what was once a rather charming and nice charcoal suit moved much more swiftly than Seraphim was used to, and she wondered if he hadn't recently joined the ranks of the rotting. The other geeks seemed to be moving only because the others had already started to do so, shambling along in the eerily quiet way of the not-quite-dead.

It took mere minutes for the faltering figures to leave the clearing, though Seraphim decided to wait and pack up the supplies in the tower. As she gathered her bags and rechecked the room and her weapons, she would glace out the window from time to time. No more walkers came into sight, but she holstered her guns to her thighs anyway. The bow just wouldn't work in this situation. The Hooligan tool, a steel bar with a crowbar-like opening at one end and a hammer/ax/pike end on the other, would work much better and fit nicely in a loop on her belt.

She did not open the door until the sun shown directly overhead. The sweat began to gather at her hairline almost immediately, and Seraphim was thankful she wore her hair up. The compound bow felt light and comfortable as she notched an arrow and drew back as she moved to stand over the still struggling body of the track runner.

"Sorry, honey." She spoke quietly, and the girl turned her head toward her just enough to allow for a clean temple shot. "God bless you, sweetheart."

Supply gathering was surprisingly easy, considering that there had been a group of dead people stumbling through her camp just a few hours before. The metal grates she used over the fire were quickly wiped and stacked in the back of the Jeep, while pots and pans were stacked and tied neatly. Quick hands tied anything together that she could, knotting the ends with strong slipknots that would allow her to release things easily when she was ready. Setting up a new camp was always tiring, and she liked to prepare ahead of time when possible. Besides, meeting the rest of the Mayberry group may not go well, and she wanted to be ready in case she had to beat feet quickly.

When she went to gather her fishing buckets, she found a rather lovely bunch of blackberries growing along the edge of the weedy bank of the stream. It was the thought of a moment that had her piling the sweet berries into the bucket. After all, everything she had ever learned growing up told her that going visiting new neighbors without an offering of friendship was unforgivable. She remembered Glenn had mentioned kids being at camp, and thought they would appreciate Georgia blackberries; sweet, familiar, and comforting.

If she were being honest, Seraphim would admit that the possibility of finding the quarry camp abandoned had crossed her mind once or twice. The majority of the herd of walkers had come from the west, where she knew the quarry lay, and she remembered the sound of gunshots echoing on the night air. She didn't feel like being honest with herself, however, and so allowed some disappointment when she found nothing but the shell of a red car, the remnants of a few fires, and some trash blowing in the wind. Making sure she had her weapons and slipping her keys into her shirt pocket, Seraphim left the safety of her car. Just because a place _looked_ abandoned, didn't mean it was.

A plastic bag taped to the windshield of the car caught her attention, and she carefully moved forward. Her name was scratched across a piece of paper inside the bag, and Seraphim somehow just knew it was from Glenn.

_Seraphim,_

_We were overrun. Lost some people, and had to bury them on the hill. We went to the CDC to try to find help for Jim, a man who was bit. If you get this, head that way. I don't know where we'll go from there, if there's no help. Sorry._

_Glenn_

Grinning, Seraphim turned from reading the note and walked into the chest of tall, dark, and dead. The walker's one good arm wrapped around her, his teeth gnashing at her face. Twisting, she threw herself out of his grasp and landed awkwardly on her tailbone. Too late, she remembered she left one of her guns on the hood of the car, and instead tried to put distance between herself and the thing stumbling toward her.

Pulling the Hooligan from its loop at her waist, she held the rod like a baseball bat and waited. The walker gave its first low moan and moved quietly over the packed earth. Just as it moved close enough, Seraphim dropped her right shoulder and brought the curved pike of the tool around and into the creature's skull, lodging it behind his left ear. She had to hold his head down with her foot in order to pull it free.

A quick glace revealed another stumbling figure across the abandoned field between her and the Jeep. Holstering the rod, she snatched her Beretta from the hood of the car. The first shot caught the woman in the neck, and Seraphim scoffed silently at herself before firing a second round. That one caught her just to the right of her nose, and she dropped bonelessly to the ground.

Sliding into the driver's seat, Seraphim retrieved the key and put it in the ignition just as six more corpses came into view. A quick check of the backseat showed she was still alone in the car, and she threw it into reverse just as one of the things brushed the grill guard of the Jeep. She wasn't about to stand and fight half a dozen of those things if she could help it, and at least now she had a destination in mind.


	6. Little Girl Found

**Special thanks to FanFicGirl10 and MollyMayhem84 (check out her story "Damages"!) for the advice and suggestions. There's a reference in here to the episode that coincides with the end of the chapter.**

Two days.

It had been two days since Seraphim found the note at the abandoned quarry and set off into the great unknown. Forty eight hours of having no idea where she was going or what she should be doing. Traveling to the CDC had been a complete waste of time, as she could see the soaring flames from a hill, miles away. Were Rick and his group dead? The hoard of walkers crowding the street like Mardi Gras revelers at a parade wouldn't allow her to draw near enough to the building to be certain. From the looks of the CDC, she felt that they were either dead, walking dead, or somewhere else.

"Okay, I just have to assume they're gone." Climbing a tree in a small town's square, Seraphim broke open a jar of mandarin oranges for lunch. "If they're still alive, I'll prob'ly never see 'em again."

Looking around, she spotted a boarded up store whose sign extoled it as having "Guns N' More" sitting right next to a craft shop as if offering "his" and "hers" Saturday shopping. Nodding to herself, she decided to finish her lunch and then see what that shop had left before she skipped town. "May as well stock up before I move on. Getting further away from towns looks to be a good thing."

Wedging the prying hook of the Hooligan under a plank of wood, Seraphim worked one side of it free of the window casement as slowly as she could. This way, she was able to avoid any loud cracking that could draw walkers from the surrounding structures or from inside the shop itself. She made a mental note to start carrying a can of PB Blaster or WD 40 with her to lubricate nails and hinges. The window under the wood opened easily enough, and she peeked inside carefully before hauling herself over the windowsill at the back of the building. Reaching back through the opening, she fitted the nails of the boards back into their holes as well as she could.

Holding her back to the wall, Seraphim crouched slightly to keep her knees bent and her head lower. If a living person were to surprise her, they would be aiming above her head, forcing them to think about their shot for a split second, which would give her time to move or talk. Rolling her feet as she took each step, she travelled quietly along the back wall. The back storage rooms were silent and empty, dust motes swirled angrily at having their slumber disturbed. The bathrooms were also both baren of any movement, and nothing bumped around in the main storeroom.

"Well, happy birthday to me." Seraphim filled two new quivers with bolts for her crossbow and another two with arrows for the compound.

Thinking of her compound, she remembered that the lower limb of her old bow had felt wobbly the last time she drew on it. The wall behind the glass counter had a lot of spaces where rifles and shotguns used to rest, but there were a few hooks to the far left that still held bows. One in particular, the appropriately named Outbreak from Bear Archery, caught and held her attention. Seraphim half expected an angry shop owner to come barreling out of a hidden corner as she reached up and removed the beautiful piece of machinery from the wall.

_This _is the bow she needed! Light weight and fully adjustable, it could work for anyone from a child to a large man. Everything came in the case hanging right below it, from sights to quiver and everything in between. There was even an attachment for bow fishing hanging on another hook beside the bow itself. Snatching some new archery gloves, a maintenance kit, and a pack of hex wrenches, she stored everything in the case and moved on to the shelves of ammunition for her Berettas.

While there were other handguns here that she could probably fashion repressors for, she was used to her guns and didn't want to go through rounds learning new ones. There were boxes of 9mm rounds stacked ten high on a shelf, and she began stacking them in her backpack as neatly as possible to save room. And then, sitting on a shelf to the right and above the regular full metal jacket bullets, she saw them.

124 grain JHP +P.

124 grain. Jacketed hollow points. High pressure.

"Oh, _hell_ yeah." With these in her double stacked mags, it wouldn't matter if she caught a walker in the jaw. Half the head would be gone. "God bless the Second Amendment, and rednecks that stretch it."

After piling every box of the JHP ammo into her bag, Seraphim moved on. Shells for her shotguns filled the remaining space in the bag, and she was forced to pick up a second in order to pack more assorted ammunition. It never hurt to have various rounds in case she came across another gun or ran into someone with whom to trade. Various hunting knives were added to the bag along with as many batteries and iodine tablets for water purification as she could fit.

Leaving the building was as easy as it had been to enter, though Seraphim took longer doing so. Sitting inside the window, she had lowered one bag and then waited nearly ten minutes before dropping the second. If a walker had heard the bag, it would have been there in that time. Sliding through the window, she was sliding the bags onto her shoulders as soon as her feet touched dirt. Her trusty piece of steal in one hand, a Beretta in the other, Seraphim jogged down the gravel alley to the pretty shop next door.

The craft shop was as empty as the gun shop had been, and had a few useful things to scavenge. Soaps were always needed, and thread would come in handy. A set of interchangeable knitting needles in a leather case was added to her bag as well as some sewing scissors. She made a mental note to keep this kind of store in mind in the future as she ducked back into the alley.

Her Jeep was just were she left it in an abandoned garage, and Seraphim threw her bags in the backseat before getting in herself. Taking the main road out of town, she picked a random direction and started driving. She had a full tank of gas and about thirty extra gallons stored in the back. She'd siphon along the way and save hers for when she absolutely had to use it. With any luck, she would find a safe place to hunker down for the night.

Luck, it turned out, was on her side.

Seraphim was able to find a long abandoned house to hole up in for the night. Its windows were still intact, and she was able to find a cover and a few tarps to cover the glass. The front and back doors were old and wouldn't stand up to much, but the interior doors were good, solid oak. She parked behind the house so she wouldn't be readily noticed on the off chance someone ventured down the extremely long drive. Sliding a chair under the knob, Seraphim curled up on the floor for a few hours' rest.

Carol's wails could be heard through the thin metal walls of the Winnebago, grating on already frayed nerves. The search for the girl had been fruitless, though they were going to be better organized in the morning. She blamed Rick, though the man hardly deserved it. After all, he had been the one to run after the walkers when Carol hadn't been able to even scream for her daughter.

Daryl cursed the fact that he had been away from the group when Sophia was chased off. He sat in an old pickup, smoking into the night and waiting for dawn. He might not be a good man, but he was an excellent tracker. Rick led, Shane played devil's advocate and gave shrewd advice, Dale was the group's divining rod for good and evil, Glen was the supply guy, and T-Dog handled anything physical with an air of humility and kindness. Daryl couldn't be any of those things, wouldn't even know where to start on most of them, but he could make himself useful by finding that little girl for her momma.

He _would_.

The day after she found the cottage had been uneventful for Seraphim. Deciding to leave the Jeep where it was parked behind the house, she set off in search of game or a more secure place to hang her hat. It wouldn't do to waste gas if she were able to find a place just as easily on foot.

The morning had been spent collecting squirrel and rabbit as she traveled quietly through the sparse underbrush of the forest. Birds trilled overhead and the wind played games with the trees until they spoke to each other softly. While the air was warm, the dense canopy kept the sun from burning her fair skin. If she could only forget about the walkers, the day would have been just like any other spent hunting in the woods around her family's hometown.

It was just after lunch that a soft rustling caught her attention. Someone was in a tree at the edge of a hill that dropped off about twenty feet to her left. There was the short, stark breathing of terror and exertion. A faint sob, as if the individual were covering their mouth to hold in the sound.

Just as she began to step closer, a walker's head crested the hill as it gazed into the tree. The middle aged man had been dressed for fly fishing in ridiculous waders and a floppy hat. His left hand was nearly void of flesh from the edge of the pointer finger to the first knuckle of the pinkie when he lifted it to reach for what appeared to be a very small, almost pink, shoe.

_It's a kid! _Seraphiim nearly cursed in shock, holding herself back so as not to draw the former fisherman's attention. Lifting her bow, she sent an arrow through his right eye just as he began to turn in her direction. No one was more important on Team Human than its youngest members.

"You okay, honey?" Seraphim began to make her way to the tree, surveying the woods around them in search of any more unwelcome company. _Please don't be bit. Please, oh God, _PLEASE _don't let her be bit. _"I don't see any more of those things, and I'm armed in case any do show up."

The girl in the tree was shaking so hard her tangled blonde bob rattled against the tree's massive trunk. Her brown eyes were bloodshot from crying, a darker spot in her left showing where a vessel had burst. Mud coated most of her clothes, and Seraphim wondered where she had come from.

"My name is Seraphim. I'm all alone out here." Standing directly under the girl's perch, Seraphim spoke as calmly into the soft afternoon air. "Can you tell me your name, Sweetie?"

"S – S – Sophia." The small voice trembled as the girl's teeth chattered.

"Sophia? That's a very pretty name." The girl's mouth continued to move involuntarily, and Seraphim had a feeling that this wasn't a good sign. "Well, Sugah, I've got a little bit of food on me and a lot more back at my car. Would you like some?"

Sophia began casting looks around her tree, looking more undecided and confused now than scared. "I don't know. . . "

Seraphim understood quickly. She was a stranger, after all, and Sophia would have been told to not speak with those she didn't know. The old world laws didn't always apply in this new one, though, and Seraphim wanted to get her back to the cabin before nightfall.

"Sophia, honey, I know you don't know me. That's okay. We can't just stay out here waiting unless you want to spend tonight in the woods."

Her words had an immediate effect on the girl, who began to scramble clumsily from her limb. Seraphim reached out to steady her as her feet hit the ground, and the young girl curled into her chest. A heartbeat later, she understood that Sophia hadn't turned, but was instead seeking comfort in the way a child does. Wrapping her arms around the little blonde, Seraphim began running her hand over the girl's head.

"Oh honey, it's gonna be okay."

Sophia's voice was a hiccupping stutter. "My mom's gonna be so worried about me."

"Is your momma in the woods, too?" Seraphim dug a protein bar, peanut butter and chocolate, out of her pack and handed it to the girl. "Eat this, it'll help with the shakes."

"No, the group got stuck in some cars. Some of those things came and chased me. Officer Rick tried to help, but more came and I ran away."

The redhead raised a brow as she began to lead the girl away. "You were with Rick and Glenn?"

"Yes, ma'am. Are you the one they met in the city?"

"That's me. Just call me Sera, though, kay?"

"Okay." Sophia had finished her snack, and her teeth had stopped dancing against each other. "You are pretty like Glenn said."

Seraphim couldn't figure out why that was funny, but she found herself chuckling. "He said that?"

"Uh huh." Sophia's steps were noticeably lighter, and they moved faster through the trees. "That's what him and Mr. T-Dog said. Mr. Dixon said you were smart."

"Yeah?"

"Well, he said you weren't stupid." Sophia shrugged slightly. "That's sorta the same thing with him."

Handing the girl her bottle of water, Seraphim laughed openly before running her fingers over the petals of a Cherokee rose as they passed. While the two walked, she began to tell Sophia the legend behind the flower. To hit a group of parked cars, they would have to have been on one of the more traveled roads. At least that gave her a place to start looking. They would find the group in time. She had something that needed to be returned.


	7. Catchfly

It'd been three days since the remaining members of the group followed the directions to the Greene farm. Daryl had been out every day from dawn until dusk searching the woods for the missing Sophia. The second day, he began taking his bike miles down the highway from the traffic snarl in either direction before parking and heading into the woods. Sophia looked like the type to keep moving instead of staying in one place, and Daryl thought he should spread out to look for signs of the girl.

Having decided that he would need to get to higher ground and come at the trail from another angle, Daryl saddled up a horse and started out. The day before, he had spotted a few tracks to the north of the highway, near a small stream. The trail had become muddled, and he had been forced to return to the farm empty handed, so he didn't mention it to the others. It wouldn't do to stir everyone up until he knew for sure. The storm that blew through the night before would have obliterated any tracks, but he was confident that whoever it was would visit the stream again.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

The first night after finding Sophia, Sera stayed awake very late. Having another person depending on her changed things, and she needed some time to reconcile that in her mind. She would need to better think things through, and not act impulsively. When another person depends on you, you can no longer do whatever you want without thinking. Seraphim was an anomaly in her family, as she was the only female sibling, and her four brothers had all spawned rough and tumble little boys, but Seraphim thought Sophia might need a little more coddling.

Sera remembered growing up in her family's quiet home outside her tiny hometown. Betty Sue had been a very attentive, caring, and traditional country mom. She gave instruction and direction in a soft, lilting voice that covered a core of steal. A Sunday school teacher from her late teens, Betty Sue was skilled at giving her only daughter a lot of hugs and running interference when her father got too gruff or if one of the boys hurt her feelings. While Seraphim's mother had been loving and supportive, it was her father's frank advice and occasionally harsh teachings that had kept her alive these last few weeks.

Rebel O'Roarke had been an Army Ranger before taking some shrapnel to the left leg, and he had not been shy about teaching his daughter alongside his sons. Girls and women, he maintained, needed to learn how to fight, shoot, and survive just as much as men so they could defend themselves and their children. He may not have been the most politically correct man, a redneck by anyone's definition, but he certainly knew what he was talking about. Sera had been forced to use his defensive lessons a few times before the walkers, and knew how effective they could be.

They weren't living in a world where she could be a woman like her mother unless she could find a man like her father. Any girl with a decent daddy can tell you one absolute and immutable fact: _no _man would _ever be _as good as her daddy. As such, Sera resolved that Sophia would just have to get used to a mix of the two.

There were a few things that had to be done before they began their search for her people. First, and most important, Sophia needed clothes and to have some sort of defensive training. (She had slept fitfully on a palate in the corner, wearing one of Seraphim's shirts.) They would have to go into town to satisfy the first requirement, but the second could be done as they moved. Sera had been firing a bow since she could hold one at the age of eight, and figured Sophia would be fine with the Outbreak. That would leave the older woman without, though, and she hated the very thought. Fortunately, she knew just the little store for that need as well.

"Sera?" The small voice floated to her, and Sera blinked into the early dawn light.

"What, honey?"

"Are you sure we'll find them? What if they moved away?" The tears were audible in her voice, and Seraphim moved to pull her into a hug.

"No Mama worth a hill of beans is gonna leave her girl in the woods like that, baby." Petting her matted hair, Sera made a note to find some water so the girl could at least get the worst of the grime off. "We just have to get a few things, and then we'll find them."

"What do we need to get?"

Sera began gathering anything they had left behind, deciding the shirt Sophia had worn wasn't worth picking up. The thing was full of holes and covered in grime. "We need to get you some clothes and your own supply pack. Also, I need to get me a new bow if I'm gonna teach you how to use this one."

"I get to shoot your bow?!" Sophia had stopped pawing at her curls to stare. "But what if I'm bad at it?"

"No, you have to learn how to handle your own weapon, and I'll help you."

"Where're we goin'?"

"There's a town a little ways away. We'll head there, stock up, and then hit the road."

Sophia chewed her lower lip while she nodded jerkily. "O- Okay."

"Hey, do you trust me?" Sera stopped her movements and faced the girl head on. "If not, I'll pack you a bag and you can go your own way. I've got some knives you can take."

"I trust you," Sophia stood and began folding the blankets she had slept on. "I'm just scared. How do you do it? Not be scared, I mean."

"I'm scared all the time." Sera moved to the backdoor, pausing to make sure her young charge was with her. "Mark Twain said that 'courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear – not absence of fear.' We just have to stick to our guns and keep going. Surviving is courage."

Sophia nodded, and Sera checked the area before they loaded up the car and drove out of the woods.

O:O:O:

The trip into the little town was uneventful until they decided to stop at a small store for some clothes. The hunting store was as Sera had left it, and she selected a beautiful Bear Archery Siren compound bow to replace the one she was giving Sophia. The Siren was made and field tested for female archers, a rather impressive supply of 300 grain arrows were located next to the bow, and Seraphim just really enjoyed the camouflage with pink accents. They were able to find some shirts that fit Sophia well enough, and a few more that fit either of them if they tied a knot in the bottom.

It turns out that shoe shopping really can get a girl killed.

Sophia needed pants, underwear, socks, and a pair of shoes meant for trekking through the countryside. There was a small department store on the edge of town leading toward the highway, and Seraphim figured they could start there and see if Sophia recognized anything. A few walkers milled about in the street, so Sera pulled the Jeep as close to a side door as she could and pushed Sophia into the building before flipping the lock.

"I don't know how secure this building is," moving as quickly as possible, Seraphim snagged a couple large reusable shopping bags from their hook. "We're going to move as quickly and quietly as possible. Do you know what sizes you need?"

"Uh-huh," the younger girl's eyes danced over the dim store. "Mom had to measure me when we shopped for school clothes."

"Good girl. Let's move."

Some pants and shorts were thrown into one bag, followed by shirts of all types. Seraphim kept watch while Sophia pulled clothes off hangers and shelves, and had to appreciate that not one design was looked at or whined about. Socks, underwear, and bras were next, though Sera had Sophia add some in her size as well. Her father's voice echoed in her mind, telling her to _never underestimate the importance of clean, dry socks_ during a time of danger, and she refused to pass up the opportunity to add to her supply.

The shoe section was across the store from where they had been, and Sera took down a walker on the way with no problem. Ripping the arrow from the man's skull as she passed, Seraphim gestured for Sophia to stay behind her until she had checked the area.

There was a decent selection of hiking boots and some with steal toes. These would have to be tried on with a new pair of socks to make sure they wouldn't blister, and Seraphim was ready with her new bow. Sophia sat on the little bench and peeled her shoes and socks off before opening a package of socks and pulling them on.

"Only try on shoes out here in boxes. We're not going to the back for anything." Seraphim spoke without turning her head, knowing that her soft voice would carry in the silence. "Start with the steal toes."

"Yes, ma'am," Sophia usually remembered to call her Sera unless she were giving orders. Orders were always responded to respectfully. Seraphim understood the habit well.

Her bow drawn next to her cheek, Sera slowly rotated from side to side with Sophia sitting behind her. She could hear the girl's movements as she sat down a few boxes and began pulling on some boots. It wasn't until she heard a muffled whimper that Seraphim knew they had missed something. Spinning, she saw her mistake.

A door had been covered with racks so that it was more functional, making it nearly impossible to see in the dim store. Now, it stood open as walkers stumbled out of the darkness beyond. One was nearly to a frozen Sophia, and Seraphim could hear more moans from the hidden room.

The saleswoman had once been beautiful, with the classic bleach blond hair and dark brown roots of a girl who needed to visit her salon soon. Her nails sported chipped pink paint under the crust of dirt and blood; her shoes were a deep red, modestly heeled, and had cute little bows. The groan issuing from her throat as she reached for the little blonde was anything but adorable. Instinct aimed the arrow and released the string, catching the shambling geek just through the corner of her right eye, felling her quickly.

"Soph." Sera got her attention, and Sophia grabbed the three pairs of boots in front of her by the laces before running to her side. "Bags!"

Sophia shoved the boots in and slung the bags over her shoulder.

Seraphim slung her bow over her shoulder and grabbed her guns. The first walker went down in a spray of blood and brain, and Seraphim was glad she had reloaded with the hollow points. Sophia clicked the lock on the door and waited while Seraphim took down two more.

"Get to the car. My door's closer." Seraphim took out two more and saw still more come through the door. "Where the hell are they coming from?!"

Sophia hurtled through the door and yanked open Sera's door three feet later. She wedged the bags into the back and slid across to her own seat. Sera was still in the doorway, trying to fiddle with something on the door while she kept her eye on the steadily approaching group.

Sophia's voice cracked shrilly as she cried out "Come on! Come on!"

Finally getting the door lock in engage, Sera slammed it shut behind her and climbed into the driver's seat. The Jeep started without protest, and Seraphim floored the gas pedal. She bumped over two walkers who had been drawn to the noise on her way out of the alley, and she could hear Sophia's quiet "ew" over the slamming of her heart.

"You okay, girl?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm alright." Sophia made a bit of a face. "May puke."

"Try to hold it for just a little bit. I don't blame you for wantin' to, but we need to put some distance between us and those guys." Taking a turn quickly, Sera noticed Sophia's skin take on a light green tone. "Give me a mile, and we'll be good to stop for a second."

"Kay," came the quiet response.

O:O:O:O:

After leaving the store, the duo had driven along a highway before taking a side road and then a dirt track that Seraphim had a feeling would lead to a suitable camp. She hadn't been disappointed with the two room cabin, and had even deemed it safe enough to have a fire in the stone fireplace. While it was a little warm for that, it allowed them to eat hot food that evening, and have some tea made of dandelion and blackberries before bed.

The rest of the afternoon had been spent leisurely, with both of them getting a washing in a small creek and teaching Sophia the basics of bow shooting. Seraphim had been glad to see that the blonde did not fear the weapon, and was able to hold and shoot properly. Her aim was a little off, and tended to list slightly to the right, but she had already showed some improvement. A little practice was all the girl needed.

The next morning had dawned bright, hot, and humid after a late night storm swept through sometime in the night. Sophia had whimpered a bit until Sera shushed her down into a deeper sleep. She had been a bit quiet that day, and Seraphim figured it was due to her losing the little ragdoll the girl had carried in her pocket.

Seraphim twisted her hair into a braid and then pinned it to her head in a swirl in order to keep it off her neck. She wanted to take Sophia out to practice a bit before the sun became too warm and they retreated to the car in order to search for the traffic jam that was their last known location for Sophia's mom and their group. Sophia had spotted a few landmarks, an oddly twisting tree and a pretty red convertible, that she thought looked familiar, and thought they were finally on the right track.

"C'mon, girl, let's get the hell outta here." Sera packed up while Sophia ate some oatmeal with blackberries they had picked the evening before.

She had decided that they would drive for a while and then return to the cabin. If they weren't successful today, they would start again early in the morning and then make camp along the way. The cabin was just too good of a place to hunker down to just abandon without absolute knowledge that they were headed in the right direction.

"Ready?" Sophia washed out her bowl and spoon, storing them in her little pack before tossing it in the Jeep.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

"Not quite," Seraphim used her hand to silently turn the girl so she could brush her hair up into two little ponytails above her ears. Her mother had referred to them "doggy ears", but she wasn't sure if that's what anyone else called them. "Now, you're ready."

Sophia shook her head and giggled at the movement of her curls. "Are we going to the same place as yesterday?"

"Nah, we'll check the snares we put out, though I don't know if we'll have anything after that storm. Then, we'll come back this way and target shoot a little."

The two headed into the woods, stopping here and there as Seraphim showed Sophia a set of rabbit tracks or the best place to set a trap.

O:O:O:O:

Daryl slouched at the bottom of the small ravine, half in the water. Ripping an arrow out of his side had seemed like the only course of action a few minutes ago, but the wound was throbbing painfully as blood steadily pooled around his fingers. Using his sleeves, he bound the wound as tightly as he could and again faced the embankment.

"C'mon baby brother," Merle's voice was a wheezy gravel from years of hard liquor and smoking. "Grab a handful of tree and climb, you little shit."

"Fuck you, Merle." Daryl mumbled to the apparition even as he took its advice and started ascending the steep hill.

Daryl made the top of the hill, cursing his brother and pulling himself up to stand. The world was a little blurry, and his feet may as well have been cinder blocks. He was losing too much blood and had little to no idea of how to get back to the farm. In an attempt to get his position, Daryl scanned the surrounding area before catching sight of something that made him want to smile.

A rabbit slowly thrashed in a snare just slightly off the path. As he weaved closer, Daryl was able to see that the snare was made by someone clearly new to the business, the knots loopy and the anchor bent oddly, but had held up to the storm well. It almost looked like the ones he used to make with his daddy standing over him. In another time, he would've felt bad for taking food out of someone else's mouth, but he needed it right then. He'd find a way to make it right after he was feeling better.

Breaking the rabbit's neck, Daryl began ripping at the furry underside. He needed the protein in his system if he was going to make it back to the farm. Eyeing the woods around him, the hunter's keen eyes caught sight of two sets of unfamiliar footprints. They led away from the snare and further into the woods. Remembering the doll on his belt, Daryl slowly began to follow the footprints.

His feet flopped uncharacteristically in his too-heavy boots, his crossbow was too heavy to properly lift and carry, and sandpaper had somehow taken up residency over his tongue and teeth, but his eyes did not falter. He caught how the person on the left, the smaller of the two, turned over more rocks and slid more in the soft earth. It was clear that the larger person was more experienced, and that the smaller was slowly learning from his companion. Maybe one of them had seen a sign of Sophia before the storm and would be able to point him in the right direction.

Daryl's eyes were refusing to focus completely, fuzzing out around the edges or jumping slightly when he squinted down at the trail. He had left the creek and the body of the rabbit behind by almost at hour when he heard voices. The first was a female, though whoever she was talking with answered too quietly to be overheard from where he weaved through the trunks of trees. Pushing himself off the trunk of a tall oak, Daryl stepped out of the tree line and into a small clearing surrounding a tiny cabin.

A twig snapped to his left and he turned to face a vaguely familiar redhead holding a wicked looking steal tool.

"You bit?" Her voice was as hard as the metal in her hand, but covered by the softest of silks. "I asked you a question."

Daryl felt the dried blood flaking on his chin as he struggled to form words. "Naw, Catchfly, 'm not bit."

As his eyes slid shut and the grass rushed up to meet him, Daryl felt arms slow his momentum.

"Did he just call you a flower?" The voice was tinny and from very far away, but a part of Daryl was lightened by it even as he slipped away into the black emptiness of unconsciousness.


	8. Patch Job

Seraphim had handed her bow off to Sophia once Daryl spoke, and she was very glad she did. His feet seemed to disagree on where he should be moving, and he was suddenly tipping forward, arms straight down at his sides. Two steps brought her up against his body, which she quickly realized smelled as if he had been having a little personal time with both a walker and more than one end of a wet dog.

Fighting back a gag at the stench, Seraphim stretched her right hand out and batted the useless crossbow from where he had been dragging it in his right hand. She then bent her knees and squared up her back and shoulders. To get Daryl inside the cabin, she would have to carry him. In theory, it was easier to do that if he were across her shoulders. However, she had only done this with people who were awake and agreeable to helping her keep them balanced.

As the solid man's weight slid onto her shoulders, Seraphim felt the difference immediately. She had to reposition her hands on his thighs and neck in order to pull him more solidly against the back of her head and neck three times before she felt confident enough to push off the ground and take the first step. Sophia was quick to snatch his Horton from the ground, and pull the little ragdoll from off his belt. She then darted around the slowly marching woman to open the cabin's back door.

Moving to the middle of the room, Seraphim crouched and was grateful when the younger girl helped lower Daryl to the floor by supporting his head to keep it from smacking off the wooden floor. Seeing the string of ears around his neck, Sera pulled them off and tossed them toward where his crossbow rested against a small table before using her hunting knife to slice through the bindings wrapped around his torso and the front of his shirt. The scars latticing his chest were a bit of a surprise, but she disregarded them as something she could do nothing about and focused on the blood still pumping from the hole in his side.

"The hell'd you do to yerself, redneck?" A glace around, and Sera remembered they had packed to leave. Whipping her t-shirt over her head, she wadded it up and pressed it to the wound. "Soph, I need you."

"Huh?" Sophia was shifting her weight nervously beside the door.

"Come hold this." When she was satisfied with the pressure of the girl's hand, Seraphim jumped up. "I'll be right back. Do not let up on that."

Sprinting from the backdoor, Seraphim raced to a tree just past the tree line she remembered seeing the day before. Snatching some of the straw-colored moss growing on the trunk, she turned and raced around the house. Grasping a handful of flowers as low to the ground as possible, she ripped them up by the roots. Pulling one of the Jeep's back doors open, she grabbed the first pack she saw with the red cross on the pocket, as she was going to need some tape and the painkillers. Slamming the door, she sprinted back to the house and slid on her knees at Daryl's side.

"Get the doors shut, Soph, and then get back here."

Sophia was moving before the "yes, ma'am" had reached Sera's ears.

There was more blood on the floor than should have been, and she realized that the hole in his side ran front to back. Cursing, Seraphim opened a bottle of water and began washing the dirt and blood away to the best of her ability. This was going to be a little more complicated than she originally thought. Sophia was back, and Seraphim nodded at the uprooted flowers.

"Take the leaves off those flowers and start handing them this way."

"Wha-"

"I'll explain later. Now, work!"

"Yes, ma'am, sorry." Sophia set to work on the spindly green leaves. She stripped them off the plant, ignoring the clusters of white flowers, and placed them in Seraphim's outstretched hand.

Seraphim placed them against the source of the blood, overlapping them until there was a solid mat against Daryl's white skin. The moss she'd grabbed from the tree was split in two, one part folded into a rough square, and that was taped over the leaves using tape from her pack. Rolling him onto his side, the process was repeated all over again before she let him rest and moved to the pump sink to wash her hands.

Glancing at Sophia, Seraphim felt the sharp sting of guilt. "Sorry."

"For what?" Sophia's hands had joined hers under the cold water. She had blood under her nails.

"Snappin' atcha like that."

"Nah, it's okay." Sophia gave a half smile. "Why did you put plants on him? Shouldn't we try to stitch the cuts up?"

"I don't have the kind of stuff they use on stitches, and I don't know if regular thread would work right. 'Sides, yarrow leaves should help stop the bleeding or at least slow it down. The Old Man's Beard is sorta like gauze."

"Really?" Sophia wrinkled her nose at the thought of putting something that grew on a tree over a cut. "Where'd you learn all this stuff, anyway?"

"Well, my Daddy taught me all I know about huntin' and the guns and stuff, though that isn't near as much as he knew. I focused on my compound and shotguns. To be honest, the handguns still give me trouble. My Momma was good with the house and animals, cookin', and makin' medicines, so I learned all that from her."

Both girls walked back out to the car to retrieve the blankets and some of the food without a thought. They both knew they wouldn't be going anywhere until Daryl was ready to move, though Sera had a feeling that it would be a lot sooner for him than it would've been for anyone else. Sophia didn't respond until they had a palate set up on the floor and had managed to shift Daryl onto the blankets.

"That stuffs really useful, huh? The plants and flowers, I mean."

"Yeah," Seraphim smirked and began unlacing Daryl's boots. "Everyone makes fun of the rednecks until the zombie apocalypse."

Sophia giggled lightly and began stacking kindling in the fireplace the way Seraphim had shown her. "Should we be getting supper started?"

"With this guy smellin' up the place?! Nah, we'll heat some water so I can get him clean. Otherwise, we'll never get the smell outta those blankets. After that, we'll figure everything out."

Sophia was obviously trying to breathe through her mouth while she was so close to Daryl. "He does kinda smell bad, huh?"

"Honey, my huntin' dog smelled better after he met the business end of a skunk."

Sophia rubbed at her nose and went to fill Seraphim's iron kettle. Waddling under the weight, she brought it over to the fireplace and put it right against the flames. It wouldn't take long to heat, so she retrieved a bowl, soap, and rag while they waited.

Seraphim glanced at Daryl's chest and then at Sophia. She had a feeling he wouldn't appreciate _her _seeing him without many clothes on, and would be absolutely livid if the younger girl were to witness anything. The men in her own family were selective about who they pulled shirts off around, and she figured he would be the same. Daryl was just as removed as her father and brothers, and she knew they would not be forgiving of such an action. Thinking of her question about dinner, and that Daryl should eat before taking the pain medication, she began a mental list of what would be easiest for him to eat as well as what would keep the little blonde busy.

"We're gonna need to start dinner sooner than I thought."

"Yeah?" Sophia's eyes skipped over Daryl's body before focusing on Sera's eyes. "I thought you said he needed cleaned up first."

"Well, yeah, but I think he'll be waking up soon, and he needs to eat something to take the pills I got for him."

"You want me to wash him up?" There was no disguising the shock and unease in her voice.

Seraphim chuckled softly and poured some steaming water into a bowl. "Nah, I got this. You get food together."

"Really?" She had told Seraphim that she had never been allowed to cook before, and it was easy to see that she was nervous.

"Don't worry so much! I'm here if you need help, and we both know it doesn't have to be perfect for me to eat it." She began peeling Daryl's socks off, finding them sticking to his skin in spots and forcing down another gag at both their condition and the smell, before she spoke again. "I have a feeling he's the same way."

"Well, he ate whatever was cooked without whining. Okay, I'll try my best."

"'s all I ask."

Twisting her fingers around each other, Sophia almost danced in place. "What'll I do?"

"Get the rest of the rabbit we cooked up last night, and put it in the dutch oven with some water, then add some salt and pepper. We've got some canned potatoes and carrots, too."

"It sounds kinda like what my mom used to make, but with rabbit instead of cow."

"Something like that." Sera pointed toward the sink. "Get it all put together over there, and don't turn around without telling me. You're too young for all this."

"I'm not that young," Sophia protested more for being called young in general, not because she wanted an eyeful of the unconscious hunter.

"Well, you're not old enough for this sort of thing. When you're done with getting supper started, I'm gonna need you to walk around outside the house and make sure there aren't any walkers sneakin' up on us."

"Alone?!"

"I'll be right here, all you'll have to do is yell. Besides, you know to keep your back almost touching the cabin and to peak around corners first. If you see any creepers, you just duck back inside."

"Okay, yeah," Sophia gathered what she needed and returned to the sink.

Seraphim took a steadying breath and set to work. Pulling at the band of his boxers, she managed to work Daryl's pants over his hips and down his thighs without exposing anything too private. A set of leeches wiggled slightly on the front of his left thigh, causing her to shudder.

"Oh, I hate leeches." They made a soft _plop-plop _as she dropped them in the bag she was using for trash.

The fibers of his pants were so coated with blood and clay-heavy mud that they stuck to his skin in a way that looked painful. She was forced to use some water on the material in order to coax them further than his thighs. Patches of skin were left an angry red, and she made a mental not to keep an eye on them. If it was just irritation, the color would fade quickly. A rash would have to be treated to keep it from spreading, and she wasn't sure if he was allergic to any sort of poison ivy or oak.

Sera made quick work of scrubbing him as clean as she could with hot water and the minimum amount of soap. His hair was the last to be washed over the bowl, the water running nearly black twice, the third time revealing that the shaggy locks were quite soft and lighter than she had thought. Maneuvering him onto the palate, she replaced the leaves and lichen on wounds that were now oozing blood rather than pumping thickly before making sure he was covered from toes to chin.

Sophia had finished filling the cast iron pot while Seraphim changed Daryl's bandages and had left it in the sink for Sera to put in the fire. She could be heard attempting to be quiet as she circled the wooden house on lookout. Sera smiled to herself at the girl's show of effort before firmly grasping the spiraled handle of the dutch oven with her right hand and throwing her left arm out for balance while she carried it to the fireplace. Depositing it as close to the flames as she could, she used the Hooligan to stir the wood so it lay over and around the heavy iron. That done, she took Daryl's pants to the sink and began what was sure to be the most laborious round of laundry she had ever undertaken. The pants were rinsed twice in the frigid water before she plugged the sink and added some soap. Adding some Borax, she began working the material against itself and her knuckles, sending up thanks that they could be washed at all and that she had some of the white powder that worked on so many things. There was no possible way to get them completely clean, but they were starting to feel more like clothes and a lot less like walking pond scum and disease. Plus, the cabin now smelled of laundry and cooking food, which was a far sight better than it had half an hour before.

A soft groan from the corner brought her head around so fast her neck cracked just as Sophia was walking in the back door. Both girls moved to the prone man, Sophia staying a few strides behind Sera, as he began to stir. When his hand moved to touch his wounded side, Sera deftly caught his wrist and slid it away.

"The hell?" Daryl's eyes flashed open, the look promising death. "What the fuck?!"

"Hey, now," Sera spoke softly yet sternly. "There ain't no need for that language around a lil' girl."

Catching sight of Sophia's diminutive form, his frown faded and he began struggling to sit up. "We need to get you home. Hand me my bow."

"I'd be more worried about pants."

Seeming to realize that he was nearly completely naked, Daryl stopped moving. Sera noticed that he seemed to shrink in on himself, drawing the blanket more firmly around his torso. His eyes flashed around the room, zeroing in on his pants and socks hanging on the back of a rickety chair near the fire.

"Where's m' shirt?" The tops of his ears were turning a charming shade of scarlet.

"I had to cut it off you to see where you were bleeding and then clean you up. Soph made dinner while I took care of you here."

"Could've cleaned m'self." The petulant tone reminded her of her younger nephews, and was he _pouting_?

"Well, I needed to make sure there was nothing else, and we didn't want to try and eat with the way you smelled." Sera brought some ibuprofen and a cup of water over as she spoke and offered it to Daryl, sure that his head had to be throbbing after what was obviously a physically taxing and, quite probably, terrifying day. "I found some leeches, so it was a good thing I looked you over. Also, there are some red patches on your legs that I need to keep an eye on. You 'lergic to anythin'?"

Swallowing the pills and sipping some water, Daryl shrugged. "Get poison oak and ivy. Not too bad, though."

"'Kay. Let me know if you start itchin'. I've got some salve that'll help."

Seraphim moved to the bags and began to rummage through the one containing the 'extras' she kept on hand to trade or for emergencies. There were some shirts that she thought may fit him. Finally locating a few of the larger sizes, she brought them over for him to inspect.

"These might fit, if you want something on."

Daryl snatched a soft, gray t-shirt and looked at the tag. He grunted as he struggled to sit up, and Sera offered her hand. Scowling at the offer, Daryl quickly realized that he wasn't sitting up on his own and accepted it.

"Let me look at your side while you're up."

"Why? Feel fine."

"Because I wanna make sure there isn't an infection starting. What happened, anyway?"

"Fell off a horse. Went into the creek." He winced slightly as she moved the moss bandage and looked over the area. "Took an arrow."

Sera was focused on her task, taking great care not to hurt him any more than he already had been, but paused to look up at him. This close, his eyes were the most amazing shade of blue. "Why did you pull it out? Leaving it in would've kept it from bleeding so badly."

"Had to pull it out to shoot a walker."

"Wow," Sophia's whisper was full of dumbstruck awe. "I told Carl you were way more awesome than Shane."

"Not hard, comparing a Dixon to a cop's like comparin' a canon to a pellet gun." Daryl smirked and accepted the bowl of stew from the girl, letting Sera fuss over the pillows behind him against the wall. "This smells mighty good."

"It's my first," Sophia's pride leaked through her voice. She was quick to add that the meat had been caught and cooked by Sera the night before. Daryl just nodded while he ate.

Seraphim patted her on the back and gave her a wink. It was a good thing, as far as she was concerned, that the girl was finding something to be proud about. What was the point of always being frightened of making someone angry by being who you are?

Daryl shifted a bit of potato into his cheek and spoke around the food. "If that was your snare up by the creek, I ate the rabbit you caught."

"Raw?!" Sophia stuck out her tongue and then tried not to think about it as she ate.

"Needed the protein."

Noticing that he had finished his serving already, Sera retrieved his bowl and filled it to the top again. That left her with a small bit of meat and some potatoes. While it wasn't as much as she was used to eating, it was far from starvation rations.

"Sophia wanted to try making a snare. Good to know it worked." She pretended not to notice Daryl's scrutinizing her bowl after she handed him seconds. "Did you track us all the way from the creek?"

"Yeah, weren't hard. That all you're eating?"

"I'll be fine. I'm not the one who had that big of an adrenaline rush followed by a four mile hike and massive blood loss." When he hummed lowly and drew his brows only lower in response, she sighed. "I'll eat a big breakfast in the morning. We have plenty of oatmeal and some blackberries. You need to eat now."

Daryl nodded and tucked into his bowl in earnest.

The rest of the meal and cleaning up passed in silence. Sera tucked Sophia into a smaller palate on the other side of the fireplace from Daryl before settling in to take watch. It was going to be a long night.

O:O:O:O:O:

Daryl came back online all at once, reality hitting him and bowling him over like the long black train that rumbled past his house down from the north. He could hear the sound of running water and something wet being shaken out. There were footsteps just outside, someone trying and failing to be quiet.

He couldn't stop the moan that crept out as he tried to move for the first time. Something tugged and scratched lightly at his side. _What the hell? Did I get bit?_ When he moved to touch the source of discomfort, a small, firm hand grasped his wrist and stopped its movement.

"The hell?" No walker would grab your arm that easily, and Daryl wasn't going down against a living man without a fight. He wasn't prepared for the pretty redhead with the bright green eyes that they had met all those days ago to greet him when his eyes flipped open, and he jerked slightly. "What the fuck?!"

As she admonished him for his language, a flash of blonde caught his attention. Sophia crouched behind the young woman, the lines of her face showing her worry. He felt himself flushing with embarrassment and tried to turn their attention to getting the girl home. It was only when Sophia mentioned pants that he realized he wasn't wearing any.

Seeing his pants on the chair by the fire and learning that they had cut his shirt off caused a whole new level of discomfort. They had seen him almost entirely naked. No one saw him that way. Ever.

The few women he'd had were either in his truck or in nearly complete darkness. Neither gave the woman enough time, light, or space to focus on him. This cabin, that injury, and his own inability to respond had given Seraphim all the time and light she needed to assess him and find him lacking. Her mention of Sophia cooking while he was being fixed and cleaned up helped him feel a little better. At least the young girl wouldn't have to deal with any of that.

When Seraphim took his hand and helped him sit up, he felt the strength in her deceptively slim arm and saw the scars and calluses from years of handling her bow and working in nature. This was a woman who was not afraid to work hard. There was a core of steal under her skin, but softness in her eyes.

The following few minutes were full of information that Daryl wasn't sure how to handle. Sophia's awe was a tangible thing when he spoke of the creek and what happened there. When did the kids compare him and the pig? The little girl made a decent pot of stew, though a bit watery for his liking. He made sure to let her know it was good, just like his momma had taught him, and gave Seraphim a nod at the mention of her catching the meat. He couldn't help the small smirk when Sophia spoke of the snare, knowing he had been right in his assessment.

_The girl ain't eatin' enough. _The thought wormed into his head as she brought him a second bowl of food like it was nothing, like they were sitting around the table for dinner. _Ain't right for me to have more than my share. I didn't catch it._

He was short when he answered her question about tracking them from the creek. He wanted her to take more food before he gave in to temptation and dug in.

"That all you're eating?" He was almost insulted when she acted like he should be worn out until she mentioned how long he had come through the forest. It hadn't felt like four miles when he was walking it, but he had been carried on a wave of adrenaline and exhaustion.

"I'll eat a big breakfast in the morning. We have plenty of oatmeal and some blackberries. You need to eat now."

While he wanted to protest further, the food smelled so good and it had been a very long time since a woman made him food. Taking the first bite of that second bowl, Daryl settled himself in for a good meal. As he ate, he watched Seraphim settle Sophia in for the night before gathering the dishes and putting them in the sink. When he made a motion to stand, she simply took his bowl and pushed his shoulder until he was lying under the blankets.

While the full stomach and the warmth of his bed lulled him into a haze, Daryl watched Seraphim prepare for the night. Unlacing her boots, she slid them off and set them beside his. Her guns were placed on the window sill, the shutters only slightly cracked in order to cut down on the dim firelight exposed. Reaching into one of the bags, she removed a wide hair brush before returning to her stool in front of the window.

Daryl watched through lower lashes as she began to unpin her hair. When she was done, three braids reached her hips. She glanced at him, but he made no movement and tried to look asleep. With a shrug, she picked up the brush and began working the braids from her curls until they hung in a wild cacophony behind her.

She looked like a warrior.

Like a country woman ready to defend her hearth and home.

Like an angel.


	9. Mud Runnin'

**Special thanks to MollyMayhem84 and FanFicGirl10 for letting me run ideas by them. Also, shoutout to my readers in other lands!**

"Daryl," Seraphim looked up at him from her spot against his chest, protected by the heavy weight of his arm. They were driving down a quiet country road, gravel kicking up behind the truck's heavy tires. The windows were rolled down and some soft song played on the radio while her wild curls tangled in the wind. He was taking her home to meet his family.

"Daryl, honey?" Her voice was muffled by his pectoral muscle and the wind.

"Yeah?" He tightened his arm and rubbed one of her curls between his fingers, enjoying how soft the strand felt running over his knuckles.

"Daryl?" Sera's voice was clearer this time, directly beside his head.

He looked down at her, but she was suddenly gone. "Huh?"

"You awake?"

"Yeah," he blinked into the early morning light. The smell of warm summer air was replaced by something grainy and sweet as Seraphim stirred the pot over the fire. "Yeah, I'm up."

"I'm gonna help you stand, okay?" She set the spoon down and crouched beside his bed. "You go do what you need to in the bathroom. We'll head back to your group after breakfast."

"Could leave now, if you want."

"Nope, food first." Grasping Daryl's hand, she let him pull himself up to sitting. "Now, I'm gonna put my arm around you and help you get your feet under ya. There're clothes already in there, but let me know if you need anything."

Daryl felt himself bristling at the idea that he would need so much assistance. "Can do it my damn self."

"Oh, yeah?" Seraphim stepped away from his side and went back to watching the pot of oatmeal boil. If he wanted to be the "big man" who was she to say no? "Well, just give a yell if you change your mind. The bleeding seems to have stopped, but you don't want to aggravate it too badly."

"Whatever."

As he began to assess how he was going to stand without whimpering, Daryl knew he was in trouble. There was nothing close for him to use as a support. It was either ask Seraphim to come back over or hurt himself. With a sigh, he admitted defeat. Looking up to say something to her, he stopped. She was already wrapping her arm around him and pulling him close.

Sera did not see a point in making him ask for help. It was hard enough for him to admit to himself that he needed it; she had watched the internal struggle in silence as it played over his face. Without a word, she helped him to his feet and then let him take it from there. He was a strong man. He could take some pain.

Turning to Sophia who had just begun to move, Seraphim smiled slightly. "Ready to go see your momma?"

Sophia nodded so quickly, it appeared that her head might have come detached in the night. "It's like Christmas!"

Sera didn't try to hide her delighted laughter. "Well, have some breakfast and get dressed. I'll pack up while you eat."

Sera had made far more food than she should have, knowing that Daryl needed as much as he could get. The oatmeal was a steal cut variety, heartier and more filling than the regular sort. She had cooked it with some of the blackberries in order to flavor it better, and to mask the lack of milk and butter. Oh, how she missed milk and butter for cooking.

She heaped a bowl for Sophia, topping it off with more blackberries the way the girl liked most. "Eat up, Chickadee."

"Did you just call her a bird?" Daryl almost chuckled from where he was leaning in the doorway, hand resting over the makeshift bandage. His bare toes wiggled slightly under her gaze.

"Why not?" Seraphim turned and began to fill a bowl for him. "You called me a flower not 24 hours ago."

"Did not." Daryl's response was halfhearted at best. Seraphim had twisted her hair back from her face and into some sort of complicated twisting buns and braid at the back of her head. Something in dark ink on the back of her neck was peaking at him over the top of her collar.

"Yes, you did," Sophia stared at him over the rim of her bowl. "You called her Catchfly."

"Huh," Daryl avoided eye contact as he slowly moved to the small table. "Don't 'member that."

"I'm surprised you remember anything from yesterday." Sera placed his bowl on the table. "Eat up. Don't wanna take you back hungry."

"I'm eatin'," grasping his spoon, Daryl was ready to start when Sera's movements caught his attention. She was moving to pick up the blankets from the floor. "I 'member you said you'd eat this mornin'."

"I've had a bit," Sera wasn't looking at him as she spoke. "I need to get this started."

"Bullshit," Daryl said a quick apology to a surprised Sophia. "You need to eat."

"Daryl –"

"Sit yer ass down an' eat, woman." He didn't shout or stamp his foot. There wasn't even a thump of his fist hitting the table, as there would have been from her father or brothers.

Instead of responding, Sera moved to the pan and began spooning heaping scoops into her own bowl before putting some blackberries on top and sitting across from Daryl at the table. No one had demanded that she take care of herself in a long while, and she had missed it. It was actually kind of sweet, in a rough sort of way. _Not that I'll be telling _him _that anytime soon._

While Daryl was satisfied that someone finally listened to him the way they were supposed to, and Seraphim was quietly happy that Daryl seemed to be none the worse for wear after his adventure the day before, Sophia was just confused. Daryl had always scared her a bit, but Seraphim treated him the same as other people would Officer Rick or Glenn. He had been a little loud this morning, but he hadn't been _mean_. He even said he was sorry for cussing in front of her, like the nice man who had worked at the diner her mom took her to after school sometimes.

Sophia knew that her father would have cuffed her around the head or back for lying about eating, and maybe hit her mom too. He always said that the mother was to blame for what a kid did, because they were supposed to teach them right and wrong. Seraphim just had the tiniest grin as she ate, and Daryl filled his bowl a second time before dividing what was left between each of theirs'.

This was such a strange morning.

O:O:O:O:

When the last of the oatmeal had been eaten, Seraphim had made a bit more than planned, Sophia was put to work washing dishes while Daryl sat at the table folding blankets and repacking bags. Seraphim moved in and out of the house, carrying bags and supplies to the Jeep and back. She could tell he was thinking hard on something, and left him to it while she worked. He would talk to her if he felt like it, and it wasn't much use to question a man before he was ready for it. Besides, he was probably just annoyed that she was doing all the lifting and carrying.

"How'd I get inside?" The question, thrown out into the quiet industriousness of the sunlit cabin, had Seraphim stumbling under the weight of all the blankets she was attempting to carry in one trip.

Crap. She really didn't want to tell him. "Huh?"

"I remember here and there of walking up to the cabin and seein' the two of ya. Then, nothin'." Sharp blue eyes focused on her face, and she was suddenly frozen. "So, how'd I get inside?"

"Carried ya." Sera ducked out the door before he could ask any more questions, giving him a minute to digest what she'd just said.

Daryl looked to Sophia, who was putting the dishes and pot away in their bag. "She means ya'll drug me."

"N-N-No, sir," the little blonde zipped the bag closed and began lugging it to the door. "She carried you all by herself."

Seraphim stepped back inside to overhear Sophia's answer. "Fireman's carry. Across my shoulders."

"Yer jokin'." Daryl wasn't sure how to respond to this information. He was angry that he'd needed help in the first place, hated that he had been weak in front of both the girls, and wasn't sure what he would do if she had in fact carried him.

After a quick scan showed her that nothing had been left behind, Seraphim picked up his boots and walked to stand in front of Daryl. "No, I'm not."

He roughly snatched the boots from her fingers and dropped them angrily on the floor at his feet. Jamming his feet home, Daryl attempted to lean over to tie them. With a grunt of pain, he slumped back in his chair. Sera said nothing, only took his left heel in hand and stood while bracing the sole on her thigh. This put his boot within reach of his hands with less strain. He chewed at his lip in thought before he worked the laces on that boot, and immediately finished the other when it was given the same treatment.

Daryl used the table to pull himself up, not even entertaining the thought of allowing her to help him stand. _Fuck! How 'm I supposed to look her in the eye after that shit? She _carried _me? Good Lord. I may as well be a baby!_

Seraphim handed him his crossbow, not surprised when he seized it angrily. She had found three bolts that would work in his weapon, and had placed them in the attached quiver earlier that morning. He readied a bolt, bracing it between his thigh and the doorframe and grunting in both effort and pain as he cocked and loaded it, and aimed down the sights as they exited the house. He didn't care that they had been moving in and out all morning, and that Sophia was already waiting impatiently in the backseat.

"You'll have to give me directions." Seraphim climbed into the driver's seat and waited while Daryl struggled into his own. She wasn't about to offer to help him again so soon.

Daryl nodded silently, catching sight of a compass tattooed on the inside of her left wrist as she drove them down the tree lined path. A shade of light gray, the face was styled to look like old metal. A tree grew around the left side and over the point of North, with a small bird taking flight from its highest point. A rope wrapped and knotted about the right side to just past the point of South with an anchor down from there.

"What's that for?" Daryl jutted his chin toward the ink when she glanced up from adjusting herself in the seat. He found himself wishing her hair was down in the wind.

"So I never lose my way," Sera shrugged and then grinned widely at Daryl's raised eyebrow. She flipped over her right wrist so he could study the letters that looked almost crudely drawn, though he knew it was on purpose. "Riddikulus. It's a spell from Harry Potter, it –"

"It turns scary things into something funny!" Sophia giggled from the backseat. "Why do you have a Harry Potter tattoo?"

"Got more than one, Chickadee."

"More Potter ones?" Sophia sat forward, her chin beside Sera's headrest as the older woman tried to ease down the rocky, disused driveway without jarring Daryl too greatly.

"Yeah, some."

Turning her head, Sophia studied her fully. "Different kinds, too?"

"Uh-huh," Sera nodded with a light smile. "I've got some others."

Now Daryl was interested in the conversation. In his limited knowledge, women with tattoos did not behave the way Seraphim did. They were rough and cussed all the time, not caring how they presented themselves. Then, his experiences were limited to barflies and women who worked with him on construction sites.

"How many?"

Darting her gaze from the windshield to his eyes, Seraphim felt the warmth of a blush creep over her cheeks. "More 'n a few."

They had reached the paved road, and Sera turned toward the highway. "Once we reach the highway, do we head north or south?"

"North," Daryl began to scratch at his side.

"Don't scratch. You'll only make it worse." Sera caught the tilt of Daryl's head and his eyebrow raise in disbelief. "What?"

"Got a hole through my side. Don't know that I'm getting' much worse than that." Sophia's giggle from the backseat had him smirking at the redhead. "See? Even the little chickadee knows I'm right."

Taking a cigarette from her wrinkled pack, Seraphim offered him one as well. "We relyin' on Chickie back there to tell us right and wrong now?"

"Why the hell not?" He paused to light his smoke. "She seems ta have a decent head on her shoulders."

"True enough."

Sophia patted the twist that ran from her front part down the side of her head to just behind her ear. "When are we gonna get there? I want to see my mommy."

"We'll be there soon, honey."

"Yeah, 'bout a half hour or so. Sorta depends on gettin' through the traffic snarls."

Sophia, who had seen some of Seraphim's more interesting ways of avoiding traffic jams, giggled again. "It's okay. Janice can handle it."

Daryl turned so he could see the little girl more clearly. "Who the hell's Janice?!"

"The Jeep," Sophia responded as if it were common knowledge.

Seraphim laughed. "She'd decided the Jeep's name is Janice, and that she's hardcore."

"Yeah?"

"Apparently."

Daryl was surprised at the conversation and the enjoyment he was getting from it. He wasn't used to talking openly with people, but Seraphim was different somehow. It wasn't because she was a woman, there were plenty of them in the group, and he didn't speak with them. Hell, he was usually more nervous around women; especially attractive ones. Maybe it was the way she spoke with the same sort of accent he used? Or the way Sophia smiled at him so trustingly? It was that look that finally drove the point home.

The reason he spoke so openly with the two females in the Jeep was because they treated him as if he was exactly the same as them. Seraphim looked him in the eye instead of to the side or at his chest. She didn't have a man to send to give him commands, and she asked him to do things rather than attempting to order him about. Also, he didn't think any of the other women he knew would give him help without making a big deal out of it and making him feel like a child.

Sophia's reaction to him last night and this morning was also a pleasant event. She had never been one to look any of the men in the eye, but she had him. She looked at him as if he were nice. Like he was clean.

Merle may have been right when they were younger: no one loved him like his big brother. But maybe he was worth _something_ after all. He wasn't someone that people should – or could – care about. But, he had proven himself to be an excellent hunter, and no one would be able to say that he had been wrong about finding Sophia alive. He had been right, she was just fine. Anyone who said otherwise could kiss his ass.

When they reached the traffic snarl, he pointed out that they would have to push some of the cars out of the way. Seraphim only smirked in return and told him to hold on.

"I don't know how smooth this is gonna be, but I'm damn sure it's easier than pushing cars."

The Jeep rumbled over the shoulder of the highway and down into the grass running between the pavement and the woods. While the suspension made the ride bearable, they still bounced around as they moved over the ground and some debris. Seraphim let out a whoop as they slipped a bit in the wet grass, kicking up mud as she pulled them out of the skid. Sophia let out a squeal of delight, and Daryl grinned openly in return. It'd been a long time since he'd been mud running.

"About two miles down there's a mailbox." Daryl grunted as Seraphim bumped them back up onto the highway. "Name's Greene."

"Right or left side?"

"Right."

Not even five minutes later, they saw the mailbox. It was one of those huge black metal affairs meant to hold both regular mail and small packages. The white lettering on the side read "Greene" in chipping, cracked paint along with the house number. Seraphim slowed and turned into the drive carefully.

Seraphim found her heartbeat fluttering quickly as Sophia began to squirm in the backseat. She knew the little girl was anxious to see her mother, but Seraphim felt a little nervous. It was the same feeling she had the first day of kindergarten, and how she always felt when she competed with her bow. What if no one liked her? Would they let her stay with the group for a few days while she figured out where she should go next? Her grandparents had a house in the woods of Alabama. Maybe she would try to make her way there? Before the questions could really take root in her mind, Sophia began jerking at her door handle.

"Mommy!" Sophia's voice broke as she yelled out the window at the group that had gathered to watch the Jeep's approach.

Seraphim stopped quickly and hit the door locks. "Go on."

Sophia rammed the door open with her shoulder and tore across the dusty grass as Seraphim climbed down and watched as a thin woman with short, gray hair sprinted toward the girl.

"Looks like today is gonna be a good day, Mr. Dixon." Seraphim smiled up at him as he moved around the front of the Jeep to stand next to her.

Daryl nodded back. "Looks like."


	10. Reunions and First Impressions

Carol's legs gave out on her halfway to her daughter, and she ended up skidding a little as her knees hit the dirt. Her arms strained toward the little girl running with everything she had so that she looked oddly uncoordinated, a marionette hurried across a stage by an unskilled puppeteer. Mother and daughter collided in the dust, melting into each other with keening cries of happiness so that it was impossible to tell where one began and another ended, the flesh of the daughter returned to the mother who housed her within her body for nine months and whose heart would bear her into eternity.

Daryl felt Seraphim's sigh more than he heard it, her shoulder moving beside his bicep, and he turned from the happy scene before them. The redhead smiled softly, though her eyes were decidedly watery. He hoped she wouldn't start crying, because he had absolutely no idea what to do with a sobbing woman. Reaching to itch his side, his hand felt the soft red cloth he habitually carried with him, and he fingered the cloth thoughtfully.

_Maybe she's like to wipe her eyes or something? That's what men in movies do, right? Give the cryin' woman their handkerchief? Usually nicer, though. Not an old rag with grease stains and wrinkles. _

Before he could mention it, Shane detached himself from where he had stood on the outside of the crowd of spectators and made his way across the lawn. His shoulders we slightly hunched in, his hands resting on his hips in his habitual, classic 'aggressive cop' stance that Daryl hated. Seraphim stiffened beside him, and Daryl had a feeling she able to feel the increased hostility and was preparing for the impending confrontation between the two men.

"Who're you?"

Seraphim mustered her best Southern girl smile and held her hand out with more confidence than she possessed at that moment. "Seraphim O'Roarke, sir."

Her hand was greeted by a large, smooth hand grasping it softly. Without glancing in Daryl's direction, the man stepped a little closer than politeness dictated. "Officer Shane Walsh."

Sera blinked owlishly and tried to contain her scoff while her eyes fought to roll. This man obviously thought far too much of himself, and she was not inclined to add to his personal list of attributes. Something about the way he stood much too close, fingers curling around her much smaller hand, rubbed her the wrong way. Seraphim took a small step to her right in the direction of Daryl's quiet, attentive presence. She felt the strength and aggression radiating from his skin along with the natural warmth, and felt protected by his aura.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Walsh."

"Please, call me Shane." Gesturing to the Jeep, he flicked his eyes back to hers. "Need any help setting up?"

"I wasn't aware that I had been invited to stay." He still refused to acknowledge Daryl, and it began to chafe on Seraphim's nerves.

Yeah, this man was sending up all kinds of red flags. Her mother may have taught her to be polite, but her father taught her to trust her instincts. Her female intuition was currently jumping up and down pointing at the red flags. There was no way she would be accepting any invitations of any sort from the man in front of her.

Shane chuckled and attempted to draw her away from Daryl's side with a slight pressure of a hand at her waist. "Oh, I'm sure you're very welcome. Come on, we'll set you up over by my tent. It'll be more protected there."

Sera suspected that his "more protected" really meant 'further away from any other man's tent', and she wanted nothing of it. Realizing that Daryl was watching the exchange closely, but that he wouldn't intervene unless he absolutely knew she was unwilling to follow the other man, Seraphim drew away from Shane's hand. This put her flush against the quiet redneck's injured side, and she felt him stiffen reflexively.

"No, thank you, Mr. Walsh. I was about to accompany Daryl into the house to be looked over by your doctor." She watched the displeasure flash across the deputy's face and knew he had picked up on her hint. One man standing with her had earned the familiarity of first names with her, and it was not the one wearing a cop t-shirt.

Shane's eyebrow twitched while his nose scrunched, as if he just smelled something distasteful and suspected he would have to scrape it off the bottom of his shoe. "I'm sure Daryl can make it just fine alone. He's a big boy."

Feeling the arm at her back tense further, Sera went with a convenient lie. "Truth is, I'm feeling a little peeked. Daryl thought I should probably get looked at, too."

"Gonna need to see the doc soon," Daryl spoke more to distract Shane from Sera rather than to draw attention to himself. He knew he was more than capable of walking up the steps to the house on his own.

_That's right, asshole. Best back the fuck up. Motherfucker better learn to keep his damn hands to himself. I'll feed him his own fingers if he ain't careful._

Hershel had stepped down from the porch along with his daughters, however, and overheard the younger man's words. "Why? What's happened?"

"Yer damn horse nearly killed me is what happened." Daryl began limping toward the house nudging Sera's shoulder.

Seraphim, unwilling to intrude on the group that was now crowded around mother and daughter and dreading Shane's undivided attention, followed Daryl quietly. She placed her hand on his back, offering support without being too obvious to anyone who happened to look. When Daryl moved away from her slightly, she accepted that he'd rather limp his way without depending on her much smaller body to bear his weight.

"We call that horse Nelly, as in Nervous Nelly." Hershel followed to two up the stairs and moved around them to get the screen door. "I would've told you that she'd throw you if you had bothered to ask."

"Yeah, yeah."

The older man nodded at Seraphim as they entered a front bedroom that had obviously been used as a medical unit recently. "Ma'am."

"Seraphim O'Roarke, sir." She held out her hand, and was glad to feel a calm wisdom in his work-worn digits when they shook.

"Hershel Greene. You found him?"

"_I _found _them_," Daryl hated being spoken about as if he were not in the room. It made him feel the way he had when he was little and was forced to talk to the Children's Services suits. "Had ta pull a bolt through my side to shoot a walker. Still bleedin'."

"Well, let's take a look at you, young man." When his shirt was removed and the lichen bandage came into view, Hershel chuckled quietly. "Old Man's Beard. Haven't seen something like that in a long time."

"I didn't have any gauze, and the clothes I had weren't clean enough to use as a bandage." Seraphim shrugged and looked up at the door when she saw movement. Sophia pulled her mother into the room by one hand and reached for Seraphim with the other. "Hey, Chickadee. You oughtta be out with the others."

"Mom wanted to meet you, but you weren't outside. Thought you and Mr. Daryl would be in here." Sophia's grin was so big her lips nearly disappeared.

"Thank you so much," Carol's voice cracked, and her words were more breath than sound. "I just don't know what- - - ."

Sera shook her head and brought the other woman into the circle of her arms, hugging her tight enough to hold her together. "Shhhh, it's okay. I found Sophia, and Daryl found both of us. See? We're all okay."

Carol nodded and stepped back, then brought Sophia into her chest as she turned to Daryl in the bed. "You were right. She's just fine!"

Daryl squirmed slightly in the bed, finding something extremely interesting about the bland white sheets. "Told ya she would be."

Before anyone could speak further, Hershel gave a sharp bark of laughter.

Rick, who had just stepped into the room followed by everyone else who crowded the door, raised his eyebrows. "Hello again, Seraphim. What's going on?"

"Is this . . . yarrow?" Hershel ignored the deputy in order to question the young woman.

"Needed antiseptic and to slow the bleedin'," Sera blushed under the scrutiny of so many unfamiliar eyes. "Did I do wrong?"

"No, no. Quite the opposite, actually. I'll have to clean and stitch these closed, but you saved him a nasty infection at least. Haven't seen wild medicine like that in years."

Sophia nodded sagely beside her mother. "Sera knows all about that sort of thing. She made me drink some really gross stuff the night she found me."

Seraphim chuckled as she began handing Hershel the supplies necessary to properly clean Daryl's wounds. "It was jimson tea. You needed something to settle you down a bit."

"Was that needed?" Rick and Shane had seen a few people who'd eaten the plant, and he knew it could have some pretty bad effects if you took too much.

"Poor thing was shakin' like a leaf and breathin' way too fast." Shrugging, Sera wondered if she shouldn't be shooing them from the room. "Chickadee, why don't you take everyone outside and tell them the story? I'm sure Daryl could use a little quiet after puttin' up with our chatter for the last little while."

Sophia caught on quickly and scurried past everyone, pulling a laughing Carol behind her and grasping Carl's hand as well. "C'mon, I'll tell you all about it."

Daryl sighed involuntarily and then winced as the old veterinarian began stitching his side shut. He wasn't sure if anyone was really looking at him, but he sure felt a little better without them in the room. Hershel was a doctor, the quiet woman helping him was a nurse, and Sera had seen it all the day before. In fact, Seraphim watched Hershel work without acting as if she were repulsed by the scars littering his exposed skin.

For her part, Seraphim was attempting to fight off a blush and not be overly obvious in her perusal of Daryl's body. While she had seen it all the night before, it wasn't as if she had had the time to really appreciate the fine lines of his chest or the sprinkling of hair under his navel. She was too busy treating his wounds to wonder what his hipbones would taste like if she nibbled them softly.

_Sweet baby Jesus, get a hold of yourself woman! _Sera glanced up at Daryl's face to make sure he was still looking down at the stitch site. _You really just met the man. Give it time and get your mind out of the gutter. Just see what happens._

Daryl pulled his left arm up behind his head after his side was wrapped, allowing him to rest comfortably for the first time in too long. As he settled back into the pillows, Seraphim's face caught his attention. She had moved to clean up the trash and assorted mess left from Hershel's work and stopped when he moved. He gave an experimental stretch, flexing his arm as he did so, and was gratified when she quirked a tiny smile and sighed slightly before shaking herself and getting back to work.

_Now that __**had **__to be a good sign, right?_

O:O:O:O:O:

Daryl slowly made his way out of the house. The room he had been in was stuffy, and he hated being forced to sit inside when he could be out in camp. There was hunting to be done, and he couldn't see the others stepping up for the job.

_Stupid bitches, all of 'em. Even the men, if you can call them that. _The front porch showed him a bright, humid afternoon. _Too late to go out for deer or coon. Could maybe get a few squirrel._

A shout from the camp drew his attention to the two figures stepping out of the woods, sunlight glinting off the bows strung over their shoulders. The taller figure waved to Carl, the rope around her shoulder heavy with rabbit and squirrel, and her hair blazed brighter than flame.

Abruptly, Daryl recognized Seraphim and Sophia. They had been out in the woods hunting while he had been confined to that bed most of the afternoon. A heavy feeling of uselessness roiled through him, and he felt like throwing up.

_She can set up camp, hunt, and take out walkers. The hell would she need a no good redneck like me for?_

Carol stepped out of the house just as he was turning to go back to the bedroom.

"Hi, Daryl."

"Hey," he began to tug at the skin of his thumb with his teeth.

"I can't say thank you enough for finding my little girl." Stretching up on her toe, she brushed a soft kiss over his cheek.

He twitched away as if he'd been burned. "Sera found her."

Carol smiled up at him sweetly. "And you led them both here."

Daryl's eyes moved back to camp, picking Sera out quickly among the women going about their chores. He smirked when he noticed the well-worn, camouflage print tent set up beside his own. Sera had moved a small folding table between them and sat there with the children, speaking to them as she readied the area for cleaning the small animals.

"She needs you, you know." The soft voice beside him reminded Daryl that Carol was still there.

"Naw," he curled his lip in distaste as Shane's body shielded her form from his sight. "She's been getting' on pretty well on her own."

"You mean she managed to hold it together long enough to get here."

"What the hell are you talkin' about? She could've been with us since Atlanta, but chose to stay wherever she was camped." Daryl glowered as he watched Seraphim step quickly toward the house. "She's just fine."

"She only went hunting because Sophia asked if she could practice some. Told me she doesn't like hunting for anything smaller than a deer unless it flies. Called it 'men's work', and said she'd rather just be at camp." Carol cleared her throat delicately and spoke more quietly as the redhead drew nearer. "Besides, Shane makes her very uncomfortable."

"Yeah?" Daryl felt the knots in his stomach loosen as the older woman spoke.

Carol nodded, "he keeps trying to make her talk to him. She hasn't said anything about it, but a woman can tell."

Before Daryl could do more than look at her dubiously, Seraphim called out to them.

"Hey you two!"

"Hey," Daryl and Carol responded simultaneously.

"I am going to teach the kids how to skin and clean, but I don't have any more decent knives. You got one or two we could use?"

"The hell you goin' on about?" Daryl could feel his eyebrows pulling down in a scowl. "You've got near a dozen in one of your packs."

"Could you help me dig them out, please?" Sera bit her lip uncertainly.

Carol nodded at him quickly. "I think that'd be a good idea."

Daryl turned to look at Carol, but suddenly realized that he was missing an entire conversation between the two women. Eyes were widening and glancing to the side, brows were moving up and down. He even caught Carol's head tilting to the side as if motioning to something. Something was definitely going on, and he wasn't going to figure out what it was by standing there staring at them being strange.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

Seraphim had taken Sophia about 100 yards into the woods to practice her shot only after much begging from her and asking her mother. Carl had whined to be allowed to accompany them, but Seraphim had been able to convince him to stay at camp by telling him they had to talk about **girl stuff**, and that she would take him the next morning. When she saw a full-blown tantrum in the works, Sera informed him that boys who threw fits didn't get to go hunting, and that he may want to rethink his approach. That cooled his temper quickly, and he promised to behave so he could go in the morning.

Sophia had proven to be a quick study, and Sera soon had her moving from a target drawn on a tree to squirrels and rabbits. While the girl wasn't able to secure a headshot consistently, she at least hit the front half of whatever animal. Sera was pleased with her progress and laughed as she informed the girl that their next lesson would be in cleaning their kills.

The two hours of hunting had been a welcome distraction and a great excuse to avoid the company of one Mr. Walsh. She did not like him, and his insistence on following her about camp made her want to stab something. Setting her tent up next to Daryl's would certainly have sent a message to anyone looking for it, but the deputy simply refused to be deterred. It made her wonder exactly how effective he had been at his former job.

Gathering Sophia and Carl, she moved them all to the small table outside her tent and had begun going over the basics as she set up. Sophia pointed out Daryl and her mother on the porch with a small giggle and a pointed look at her older friend. Before Seraphim could respond, a shadow fell across their work station and she looked up at Shane.

"Good haul?" Shane's head tilted up just a bit, and she was happy her shirt had full coverage of her chest.

"Was okay. Sophia's a pretty good shot." Sera tugged on a bit of the girl's hair. "Little more practice, and she'll be aces."

"Yeah? Why are you teaching her to shoot and not Carl?"

Sera sighed heavily. "Takin' him out tomorrow morning. Did you need something?"

"I was just trying to piece together why a little girl should be taught how to hunt before a boy. Makes no sense, what with all the men in camp."

"That's insulting on a number of levels, Mr. Walsh. I need to go talk to Daryl about a few knives. You **do **remember him, right? The only **man **in camp that actually does any hunting?" Sera stood, forcing Shane to take a step back or be knocked off balance.

"You kids start untying these from the line and put them biggest to smallest here on the table so we know what we're lookin' at." Leveling a haughty look at Shane, Sera's voice held as much contempt as she could muster. "If you'll excuse me."

Without waiting for an answer, she moved toward the house. _Daryl will know what to do. I'm at a loss here._


	11. Knight in Ripped Flannel

**Thank you for the awesome reviews, and welcome to all the new folks! Special shout out to MollyMayhem84 for the Gollum review, as I do the EXACT same thing. FanFicGirl10, hope you like this one.**

**Not a HUGE amount of action, but some character advancement and general sweetness. Please, let me know what you think.**

"So, what's got you all worked up?" Daryl held the pack while Seraphim dug through it, selecting knives that the kids could use. The position allowed him a glimpse of black at the top of her spine, and he wondered what else she had inked into her skin.

"Walsh."

Daryl grunted in return. "He's an ass."

Smirking, Sera stood and zipped the bag closed. "I know, but he gives me the creeps."

"Shoot 'em."

The answering giggle had the corner of his mouth turning up in an unconscious grin. She sounded like a little girl when she did that. He briefly wondered if he could get her to do it again.

"Nah, Rick likes him. He needs to leave me alone, though, and go back to staring at that Lori woman."

"He's just pissed she don't want him no more since Rick came back from the coma he was in when this all started."

Seraphim felt her eyes widen as she took in the new information, though it made sense. The man was obsessed with his best friend's wife, and she had denied him. It made Sera wonder how far he would go to be in control again, and she made a mental note not to let down her guard when he was around.

Sophia looked up as they approached, smiling brightly waving a little. "Hi Daryl! Feelin' any better?"

"'M alright," Daryl looked down at the table and surveyed their prizes. "Did pretty good out there."

"Thanks! That big rabbit there was **fast**! Sera got him, but made me do the rest on my own." The teen beamed up at him and then glanced at Carl. "She says she's takin' Carl out in the morning to see how he's gonna be with a bow. Could be better with something else, though."

"Yeah, that's true."

Carl, seeming to gain his voice once he saw Sophia speaking to Daryl with no fear, looked to the older man. "Are you better with your crossbow than anything else?"

Daryl shook his head. "Naw, pretty good with most guns. Crossbow is quiet, though."

"I, on the other hand, am not as good with some guns as others." Sera wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue at Carl. "Could never quite get the hang of a crossbow, though I know how to use one. My aim is always off. I'm good with my compound, the Berettas, and I like shotguns."

"Kinda hard to suck with a shotgun, though, isn't it?" Carl grinned mischievously.

Sera nodded. "My point, exactly."

"So," Daryl pulled a chair from in front of his tent over to the table, ready to clean the animals the girls had supplied. "Anyone givin' me a hand?"

Sophia giggled softly. "It looks so gross, but Sera says I have to learn how to do all of it or it's not worth the time I spent hunting."

"Well, Sera's right. Hunting will keep you fed, but only if you know what you're doing after." Daryl began working on the largest rabbit, watching the redhead as she stretched her arms over her head and slowly rotated her shoulders before wincing slightly and then grabbing some buckets for water.

"You okay?" Carl asked when she came back from the pump, and Daryl was happy the young boy had asked so he didn't have to.

Sera nodded and rubbed at her shoulder. "I pulled a muscle helping Daryl when he was hurt yesterday."

Carl frowned. "How?"

Daryl felt himself tense at the question. It was bad enough that _he _knew she carried him. If the kid found out, everyone would know before dinner. He'd be something to laugh at again, just like not-Merle had said in the ravine.

"Well, he's pretty big. Had to help him into a house and then move him around." Sera figured she was safe wording it like that. Everyone would assume she meant assisting him in walking, and Daryl wouldn't have to face anything he was sure to see as ridicule.

"Now," Sera pulled a face at the headless animals lying on the table. "Let's get this over with."

"Thought you said you had to know how to do it?" Sophia was suspicious of Seraphim's obvious distaste for cleaning her kills.

Sera chuckled. "You do. Just because I don't _like_ doing it doesn't mean I'd go hungry just so I didn't have to. 'S man's work, though."

"Yeah?" Carl seemed to puff up a little and look between Sera and Daryl.

"Yeah." Daryl and Sera both spoke and nodded at the boy before going back to work, though neither of them missed the way he focused on the lesson until they were through.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in relative peace.

The kids took to cleaning the animals better than Seraphim had hoped, though Daryl fussed about wasting meat with the amounts that were left on the skins. Rolling her eyes, Sera had simply removed any usable meat and placed it in a pan for stew. Upon hearing that this was the usual fair, she made a note to start dinner early the following afternoon to make something special for the group that had allowed her to stay.

Dinner was likewise quiet, with the exception of Lori's imperious demand that Carl stay at camp the next day instead of going into the woods. When he protested and appealed to Rick, permission was given nearly immediately. The deputy saw the importance of learning a weapon, and was happy to hear that Daryl would also be going. Glancing at the brunette, Sera felt her anger and annoyance seething through the humid air.

"Seraphim," Dale's voice floated over the fire to where she sat between Daryl and Maggie. "I'm sure I'm not the only one who's curious about you. Where are you from? How did you learn all that about plants?"

"Up in Dawsonville, sir." The man may look like a cartoon of a retired guy, but Seraphim's mother would die (again) of shame if Sera thought of disrespecting an elder.

Shane's too-loud, blunt approach was next. "What were you doing in Atlanta, then?"

"Was headed down to Bama, my brother and grandparents are down that way, with two of my other brothers. Mike and Tommy, my brothers, were tryin' to keep their kids and wives safe. Bad things happened, I got left behind."

"They just left you?" Maggie sounded angry enough for a whole army of wet cats.

Seraphim could only shrug. "They wanted to go to this gated neighborhood Mike and Tommy had done construction on. I didn't think it was a good idea. Their wives, Marry and Denise, didn't like me much to start with, so they pushed for whatever I wasn't happy with."

Maggie scowled again, and Sera decided she liked the other girl. "Still not right."

"I know, but that's life. Was never close with those two, and they didn't let all this change that a bit." Sera lit a cigarette and stared into the fire. "When I went to check on them, the place was overrun. They're either turned or moved on."

Glenn spoke from his spot on the other side of Maggie. "Where'd you learn all that stuff about plants and everything? That's pretty awesome."

"My momma taught me plants and cooking, anything you could do at a camp or at home without much to work with. Turns out being no-count backwoods trash is good preparation for a zombie apocalypse." Sera smirked at Daryl's snort of amusement. "She'd let my daddy take me out with the boys for a while here and there, but put her foot down 'bout some stuff."

"What kind of stuff do you know?" T-Dog smiled at her.

"Well, I know how to make snares, run trotlines, and hunt. Can also make a warning signal with a keychain alarm and a trip wire if I have a mind to. Daddy also showed me how to make traps for people, in case I was ever in need, along with some knife skills and fighting."

Rick chuckled quietly. "He taught you **knife fighting**, but your mom thought over stuff was too far?"

"Don't know how to hang a man, or how to slit a throat, but all five of my brothers do." Sera let her eyes travel around the group before focusing on Rick. "Don't know how to make 'shine or grow pot, but they all did that before this happened.

"Anything illegal, dirty, or too harsh is men's work, and I'm better off not knowing it."

"True enough," Daryl nodded while he chewed the last of his meal.

He sure knew how to hunt in all the ways she did, but he could also track. He knew fishing and trotlines. While he didn't know any tricks with keychains, he **did**know more than his fair share about knives and fighting. _Nice to know there are others out there who know the way of things. Wonder what they'd think of me._

The group was quiet following Sera's story, breaking up to head to their tents or watch post soon after. Sera helped with cleanup since she hadn't cooked, making sure to let the other women know that she would be cooking the next evening. When she was finished, she moved to her own tent.

The material was old and fading in some places, but it was a solid tent, and she liked it quite a bit. It was the first tent she had been given once she was deemed "old enough not to do anything too stupid" by her father. The backup tent in her Jeep was nowhere near as nice, but that's what backups were all about. She could hear the others calling out their goodnights all around as she pulled a camp chair over in front and had a cigarette before opening the tent flap and freezing in fear.

There, sitting on the middle of her sleeping bag, was the largest spider she had ever seen. Long, brown legs hooked wickedly out from its body. As she watched, it lazily moved a few inches, putting it slightly further from her position at the door. Sera moved just a bit to see how it would respond, and was suddenly sure she was going to somehow scream and throw up at the same time as it darted slightly at her.

Glancing around quickly, she seized a boot from the floor. If she aimed true, it would do nicely. However, throwing anything usually resulted in her missing its intended target. If she missed, Sera was absolutely positive it would leap onto her face or worse: disappear somewhere in the tent.

"Crap." Sera whispered to herself in fear that the eight legged monster would hear and become angry enough to charge her. "What do I do?"

A grunt came from the next tent, and she didn't hesitate to drop the tent flap and dash the few strides necessary to reach it. Tapping the tent's material, she cleared her throat.

"Daryl?" She shifted from foot to foot, fighting the urge to glance at her tent in case she saw the thing following her. If she didn't look, it couldn't get her. "Daryl I need help."

A disheveled head poked out of the flap. "What the hell, woman?"

"Please?"

"What's goin' on?" He rubbed tired eyes, and Sera felt terrible about rousing him when he obviously needed rest.

"Sorry, nevermind." Sera jerked her thumb toward the fire. "I'll just go sleep by the fire. The stars are pretty enough."

"What's wrong with your tent?"

Now, standing outside and away from the stuff of her nightmares, Seraphim felt ridiculous. Not wanting the man to get too agitated, she sighed.

"There's a spider in my tent."

Daryl's face managed to remain a complete blank, even as he fought a chuckle. "What?"

"Spider. It's **huge**, and right in the middle of my bed."

"Smash it."

"Can't. It moves when I try to do anything and raised its legs at me." Sera bit her lip and looked at the ground. "Please come kill it? Please?"

Without responding, Daryl drew his head back into the confines of his tent. Before she could turn and start toward the glowing embers of the fire, he came back out. He padded over the worn ground in his socks, his left boot dangling carelessly in his right hand.

Getting a good look at the spider, Daryl had to admit that it was pretty impressive. "Huh."

"I **told **you." Seraphim twisted her fingers and then crossed her arms, trying to peer past Daryl's broad shoulder. His stepping into the tent had her grasping that same shoulder tightly. "What are you doing?!"

"Gotta shoo it off your bag. Unless you want its guts on your bag?"

"Okay," Sera knew she was being stupid, but couldn't seem to stop. "Just be careful."

Daryl's chuckle made her smile. "Pulled an arrow from my side and shot a walker. Think I can handle a little ass spider."

"Little, my foot." Sera caught at the door flap, keeping it open so she could keep an eye on what was happening. If he killed it, and she didn't see, she just knew she wouldn't believe it.

"Yeah. That's pretty tiny, too." With a movement of his foot, the spider scuttled away. Once it was off her sleeping bag, Daryl slammed the boot down onto its body.

Its legs were so long, they curled around the sole.

"Oh, ew!"

Daryl chuckled and stepped out into the cooling night air. "Thought you were a country girl?"

Sera shrugged. "Hate spiders. Always have."

"Well, that one ain't botherin' no one from now on." He took a step before her voice brought him up short.

"Do you think there are more?"

"Nah, probably just the one." Daryl really did not feel like searching her tent for a spider that may or may not exist.

She nodded in return, even though she knew there was no way on earth she was sleeping in that tent until she had searched it for invading arachnids. She thought she'd just keep that to herself. Turning, she placed her hand on the hunter's forearm.

"Thank you, Daryl."

He shrugged and dropped his head slightly. "Yeah, okay."

Impulsively, she went on her tiptoes. Using her hand on his arm to steady herself, she leaned forward and placed a kiss just at the corner of his lips. The answering blush made her feel bad until she caught the slight upturn of his mouth.

"Night, Catchfly."


	12. Decisions Made

**Special Shout-Out to Kaleiburzz for the Potter tattoo mentioned here. First person who can name all the works referenced in the big tattoo gets to give me smut/love scene ideas ;)**

By the end of the morning, Seraphim had another immutable fact to add to her list: Carl Grimes sucked at archery. She hated to admit it, and knew it to be a great disappointment to him as well, but Carl was just not going to be the next great hunter for the group. Daryl had taken to watching the surrounding forest with an unnecessary intensity after the boy's seventh missed shot, and Sera had a feeling it was more to alleviate some of the kid's embarrassment. While he took practicing seriously, listened to all instructions well, and tried his hardest, he just did not do well with either the compound bow or the crossbow. Not one shot had even come close to the tree on which the target was painted.

He had been discouraged and ready to head back to camp with tears threatening to fall until Sera had an idea. She drew one of her Berettas, checked the clip to insure she had loaded it with the cheaper ammo, and handed the handgun to the boy. A few instructions and warnings later, Carl was hitting the targets without a problem. The first shot was slightly to the bottom and right of the target, but each one after was closer to center until he had a beautiful cluster.

"See?" Seraphim ruffled the boy's hair as they moved back to camp, Daryl taking up the rear. "Just had to find what you're good at. Might not be meant to hunt, but you can sure as hell protect. Have to talk to your dad about finding you something of your own."

"Okay!" As soon as they could see camp through the trees, he began running toward Sophia before sprinting back to wrap her legs in a hug and then taking off again. "Thank you!"

Dropping their firearms off at the RV with Dale, Sera and Daryl moved to their folding table and began cleaning the three rabbits and five squirrels Daryl had managed to bag in the woods while Sera planned out dinner in her head. She had set up her solar oven as soon as she woke, getting the bread ready and putting it in so it could bake in the warm Georgia sun. Now, she was already mentally putting together what would be a rather interesting stew of Daryl's catches and some plants she knew would be growing nearby.

"Gonna go find some dandelions after this." Sera placed the rabbit skin she had just cleaned to the side to dry.

Daryl didn't look up from his rabbit. "Stew?"

"Yeah, I reckon I'll take the kids with me." Reaching for a squirrel, Sera began to skin it in her calm, precise way. "Willing to bet they have no clue what you can and can't eat out here."

Chuckling, Daryl reached over and removed the small animal from her hands. "Probably a safe bet, there. Go on. I've got this."

"You sure?" While Sera didn't want to leave all the gross work to someone else, she was more than happy to relinquish the chore if Daryl was willing to do it. "Got a lot to do."

"Nah, probably be finished by the time you get back." Daryl jerked his head toward Carl, who was going on about learning to shoot to a giggling Sophia. "Kids add time to anything."

Sera saw the wisdom of his words and nodded before standing to go wash up and collect Carl and Sophia. She knew it would take longer to teach the kids what to look for than to simply go herself, but teaching them what to do was important. Hopefully, it would lead to them being able to help more in the near future. Giving children chores they could do, that gave them a sense of helping the group as a whole, would also help keep them out of trouble. Sera suspected she wasn't the only one who noticed Carl's tendency to never be where his parents told him to stay.

Both Sophia and Carl were eager to learn from the redhead, though Sophia thought the apron Sera wore over her jeans looked funny tied up to form a large pocket. Beth even came out to help and to take instruction after making sure it was okay with Hershel. They spent the next two hours moving over the lawn and fields picking dandelions, dock, and goosefoot as well as some meadow garlic to go in with the meat. There were pussy willows along a small, swampy creek in a back field that were still young enough to be eaten. Sera placed the plants for dinner in her apron while any plant cut or dug for medicines was added to a large bucket.

"What about desert?" Carl had been skeptical about the plants at best, and Sera could tell he was hoping there would be something he could look forward to eating.

Beth's sweet, shy voice came from behind Sophia. "There are some mulberry trees right over there. We could see if there are any the birds haven't gotten to yet."

"Great idea!" Sera led the group over the trees, happy to see that there were many berries ripened by the warm sun. She directed the two smallest to climb onto the fence and pick while she kept watch and Beth gathered the lower berries. "This close to the woods, I like to keep an eye out."

Berries picked, the old milk bucket was nearly half full when they headed back to the farm. Sera had seen some strawberries, but they weren't ready to be taken in. Beth had also remembered some black cherry were located along a fence row between their current location and the camp, so they made a point to stop and pick all they could before the birds stripped the branches bare.

"How's that for desert, little man?" Sera smiled at the boy, and he grinned up at her from under his father's hat. "Feel better about dinner, yet?"

Brown eyes twinkled in laughter. "At least there'll be something I like."

"Just wait till you taste my campfire cookin'. You'll wonder how you ever ate without it."

Carl snorted. "We'll see about that."

"Can't be worse than three days of burnt squirrel." Sophia interjected with a disgusted look. "I'll try anything once at this point."

Sera chuckled. "Well, thanks so much for your vote of confidence."

They had made it back, and the kids hovered around watching her prepare dinner while Daryl began adding wood and shifting logs in the fire. The meat and water went into her largest Dutch oven first, followed by the dandelion heads and meadow garlic (Sera made sure to put the rest of the dandelion plants in her herb bucket). The dock and goosefoot were next, while the pussy willow was chopped into bits before being added. When all this was done and the lid was securely in place, Sera pulled on her dingy leather gloves, firmly grasped the handle, and waddled it over to the fire.

Daryl reached for the heavy cast iron, but Sera shrugged him off impatiently; she knew what she was doing and how it needed to be done. This would have drawn a few chuckles, but those watching wisely withheld their mirth in favor of being able to stay and observe. The usually impatient man took a step to the side, planting his heavy boots securely in the ash, and simply steadied Sera by the elbow as she nearly straddled the low but hot fire and lowered the three legged pot into the hole he had made in the glowing embers. This done, they both carefully covered the whole thing with more embers and burning wood.

"Thanks." Sera removed her gloves and wiped at her forehead.

Daryl gave a quick nod. "Yep."

"Why burry it?" Andrea's voice was at once curious and somehow slightly accusatory.

Sera swept a few loose curls off her neck before untying her apron. "Heats the whole thing like an oven. Now, I'll have to check the fire from time to time, but dinner will mostly take care of itself."

Andrea still looked skeptical, but nodded her understanding.

Realizing that her work was done for the day, Sera decided it was time for a book and maybe some spinning while she kept an easy eye on the fire.

"Hey Daryl?" Sera stopped by his tent on the way to her own. "I'm going to wash my clothes tomorrow. If you put yours out before you leave to hunt, I'll handle those for you."

Nodding, Daryl didn't look up from the bolts he was repairing. "Sounds good."

Moving into her tent, Sera was reaching for the bag containing the wool and spindle when she caught sight of the light green halter top Sophia had thrown into her shopping bag when they had been in town. It must have been in with some of the shirts the blonde had grabbed for herself. Being neither her size nor age appropriate, Sophia had handed it off to the redhead without question.

Shucking the cotton t-shirt that clung to her back and the bra that could have used a good washing two days ago, Seraphim sprayed sunblock down her back and across her shoulders and arms. The top had a built-in shelf bra that, as long as she didn't do any running or jumping, should serve to cover her ample bosom decently enough. The ties around her neck and under her arms kept it held against her firmly while leaving her shoulders, back, and a two inch strip of midriff completely bare.

Having changed her shirt, the jeans and boots she wore were at once suffocating. Clinging and oppressive, she knew there would be no wearing them in the heat of the afternoon. She dug an old pair of jeans with ripped knees and holes in various spots from her mending pile. Putting her knife to use, she cut them off so they ended a few inches above her knees. Conceding to the need for some form of foot covering, she opted of her old, broken in cowboy boots. Feeling so much better, Sera pinned her hair into a twisted bun, selected a much loved copy of one of her favorite novels, and retrieved the bag of wool before she stepped from her tent and into the bright sun. She had some time to sit for a while before she checked on the fire.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

Daryl had just put away his repair kit and set the bolts he had fixed on the table to dry when Sera moved from her tent and into his line of sight. His breath slammed from his lungs as surely as he had been hammered in the stomach, and his hands were suddenly damp and twitching. Sera's pale skin was on display, nearly glowing in the bright summer sun.

_Jeeeeeeeeesssssssssuuuuuuuuu ssssss! No wonder she could pick my ass up. _All at once, he was seized by the need to stare at her shapely legs, toned arms, or soft curves while also being absolutely certain that he ought to be looking anywhere else. His eyes made the decision for him, focusing on the woman in front of him and his own hands by turns.

She turned to face the house, and he **finally** got to see the tattoo that had been teasing him for days. A tree in the shape of a cross was laid into the skin covering her spine, its roots disappearing into the top of her shorts while its branches fanned out on either side of her spine and up toward the base of her skull. Small, peach colored flowers grew around the bottom of the icon, and he recognized with a start the Cherokee roses inked into her very flesh.

As close as he was sitting to her, Daryl could make out the words "A Time" written in some fancy writing down her left side, though the top of the writing was obscured by the top she wore. Her right seemed to be decorated with a deep red ribbon littered with small images and phrases, though they were not legible from his seat. More words could be seen spanning the tops of her shoulders as she lightly swung the bag she carried and moved to sit in the shade.

"Hey Daryl, is there any more water in your drinkin' bucket?"

Daryl removed the cloth covering and saw that the bucket was half full, but knew it would be warm and unappetizing after sitting beside his tent all morning. He stood and picked it up. "Naw, it's empty. Get ya some more. I gotta go wash up anyway."

"Well, thank you." The book gave a quiet squeak as she pressed its pages open and began to read.

"Uh huh." He managed to only look at her from the corner of his eye, taking in the brown boots and smooth expanse of leg as she leaned against a tree.

It took about three steps before Daryl's inner voice, in the form of his brother, snickered at him. _What the HELL was that? You pussin' out on my little brother?_

"Shut up."

_The fuck I will. Since when does some piece of ass knock a Dixon stupid? Look at'cha! Can't even put a sentence together._

"She ain't just some piece of ass."

_She ain't? You sure about that, Darylina?_

"She's too good for that. She's Smart. Strong. Thinks I'm worth more'n I am." Daryl had reached the garden beside the pump and poured what was left in the bucket on the tomatoes, making sure to avoid getting it on the leaves so they wouldn't bake in the heat. "Better than any of them pieces at the bar."

_You don't say? Noticed she didn't tell none of 'em about havin' to carry your ass back at that shack. _Merle rested his hands on his hips and gazed at Seraphim while Daryl pumped water and did the same. _Why the hell you not talkin' to her, then?_

"Too good for me by a long shot."

_No, she ain't. Yer a __**Dixon**__,__for Christ's sake! If you want her, better go talk to her before someone else gets there. _Merle sniffed and nodded to the figure of Shane, who was leaning on the porch railing and staring across camp at the redhead. _The good officer is checking out your girl._

"She's not my girl."

_Could be. Go make a move. Talk to her, you asshole!_

"About what?" Daryl, satisfied with the water level, stopped pumping and started to lug the bucket back to camp.

_Shit, son, she's reading a damn book and has a bag. Pick one and ask about it, ya ignorant hick!_

Before Daryl could respond, Merle was gone and he was standing in front of Seraphim. Dunking a cup into the cool water, he handed it to her and then couldn't help chewing on his thumb. Her fingers had been warm and slightly callused as they brushed his own.

"Whatcha readin'?" The question was more a compulsion than a decision, but he was happy when she smiled softly in response.

"_The Princess Bride_, actually," Sera's smile became slightly shy before morphing solidly into self-doubt and then her voice filled with self-mockery. "Never grew out of fairy tales, I'm afraid."

Retrieving his whet stone and every blade he could think of, Daryl sat against a tree near Sera's. Without looking up from the knife, he nodded at the book. "What's it about?"

"True love. Pain." Sera grinned and let herself get excited. "Torture, miracles, giants, giant rats, swordsmen, evil princes, and dread pirates."

He scoffed lightly. "All that in one book?"

"Uh huh," Turning back the three pages she had read while he went for water, Sera glanced at him from under her lashes. "Want to hear some?"

"Ain't a kid." Daryl was caught and held by her light green eyes, shimmering like a forest pool in her luminous face.

"Oh, okay." The disappointment in her voice was clear, though she very obviously tried to force it away. "Have to check on the fire. I'll be right back."

He wanted to take back the knee jerk reaction, but settled for a mumbled "Yeah, okay."

When she returned, Daryl was reminded of another thing he wanted to know about. The right side of her back and her hip did, indeed, have a twisting scarlet ribbon tattooed among the light freckles. Little things hung from it like charms on a bracelet.

Some were just a picture, others were words, and still more were a combination of the two. There was a black eye mask followed by a tag reading 'as you wish'. A little daisy flower with the word 'infinite' in its petals followed. A plain black comb had the words 'stay gold' etched along its edge. An arrow followed the comb, 'real' written along its shaft. A grinning cat hung by its tail over the ribbon, its head resting on upturned paws while a circle made up of two snakes twisting around and biting each other occupied the next space. There was a wolf in a red cape, a coffin with a dead fish, and a round green smiling thing with its hands raised tauntingly. A little rabbit in striped pajamas held a red balloon, a small rowboat hung under a shining green light, and a little old Pooh gave a tiny Piglet a ride on his shoulders.

"What's with the tattoos?"

The bright giggle bubbling from the girl had Daryl smiling in return. "Which one?"

"Any of 'em." Flicking his eyes around to make sure no one was watching him too closely. _Too many nosey assholes around here. _"All of 'em."

Sera's eyes flashed to his face in surprise. His voice had lowered so that the words were personal. Secretive.

"How about I go over the ones you can see?"

Daryl knew she hadn't meant to be provocative or dirty, and that made her question all the more tantalizing. _Now, all I'll be able to think about the rest of the night is places on her I can't see. Good Lord._

"Alright," Daryl congratulated himself on his even tone.

"Well, there are different little things from a lot of different books on this side, because I love something about each of them. The other says 'Once Upon A Time', because I've never really stopped believing in fairytales and happily ever after. The Cross is for my family, and the roses for hope." Sera moved to sit facing Daryl, her hip nearly touching his thigh, to point at the faint white ink at the front of her collarbones on either side of her neck. "The right says 'Mischief Managed', another Potter reference, and the left reads 'Don't Blink', which is a nod to Doctor Who."

Daryl thought they were a little odd, but he decided he shouldn't get too mouthy. He had a few pieces that others would find strange. She hadn't gotten to the words running along the tops of her shoulders from her right joint to neck and then from neck to the left joint.

"Is that some sort of poem?"

Sera smiled slightly and ran her fingers over first the blue shield with its gold fleur de lis and sword through a crown and then the words as she spoke.

"'I am not afraid,'" her hand move to ghost over the words on her left shoulder. "'I was born to do this.'"

Daryl's eyebrows drew down in confusion.

"Saint Joan of Arc. That one is to remind me that I would not be given something to handle if I were not capable of doing so."

Chuckling, Daryl nodded. "Plus, that chick had some balls."

"You think?"

"Led the French army against the English, put a king on the thrown, dealt with torture and was burned at the stake?" He was impressed and let it show freely for once. "Yeah, that's some balls."

Sera's surprise showed in her delighted smile, and Daryl wasn't sure if he should be angry that she seemed so shocked or happy to make her smile like that. When she sighed happily and wiggled her fingers through the grass, her hands brushed along her edge of his thigh, and he decided that he'd give being happy about it a shot.

"You know about Joan?"

"She was interesting, and my high school teacher just loved to talk about her." Here, he found himself shrugging slightly. "If you could work her into an answer on a test, he'd grade you higher."

Seraphim threw her head back and let loose that free, open laugh that made Daryl chuckle and the others turn and take notice before she went to stir the fire around and remove two loaves of bread from her box. Daryl loved that sound, wondered if he could make her do that every day, and even wondered if she was the type to laugh in bed. One of the men he worked with had told him once that laughing and playing in bed was what had kept him and his wife together for over fifteen years, and that struck him as something important.

Shane came over to say something to her as she stood by the fire, and Daryl snarled silently to himself.

_Gonna have to nut up, little brother, _Merle sat down beside him and inspected the knives he had cleaned. _Walsh was hot to trot before, and he's only gonna get worse with her showin' some skin._

"I know," Daryl watched as she shrugged Shane's large hand off her shoulder and went to collect the kids from where they were lazing around. "I'll make a move."

_I'll believe that when I see it. _

His older brother's disbelief rankled Daryl, and he snapped in return. "I got to, or she'll figure out I ain't shit and move on."

_When?_

"Soon." The kids were walking in the direction of their shaded spot along with a grinning Seraphim. "Tonight."


	13. Just A Kiss Goodnight

**Bits and pieces deal with The Princess Bride. If you've read it or seen the movie, you'll understand. If you haven't either read or watched, please go do that this weekend. Special shout-outs to RachelNicole523, DeathWhistlingDixie, and MollyMayhem84 for putting up with my oddness. Also, a special thanks to BakerTennant'sTardis for my 100th review. Your reward will be coming soon! *muah***

Seraphim taught Sophia how to use the drop spindle while Carl read aloud from _The Princess Bride _and Daryl pretended to be completely absorbed in sharpening every blade he had ever seen. Seraphim smiled as she let Sophia work the wool on her own and watched Daryl smirk at Buttercup's bossiness and Westley's death by pirates. Sera had seen the brief flash of regret in the hunter's eyes when he snapped at her offer to read to him, and knew that he would stay to listen to the tale if she brought the kids over. Nudging Carl, she took the book and nodded him over to Daryl who promptly handed him one of the smaller blades and a second whet stone.

Clearing her throat, Sera began her reading with an enthusiasm that revealed both her familiarity for, and love of, the book she read. Fezzik's deep, gentle baritone was mimicked while Inigo's lilting accent wove around the story of his father's death at the hand of the six-fingered-man and his subsequent quest for revenge. Vizzini's nasal tone and the battle of wits caught the attention of the kids and Daryl while also drawing in Glenn, Maggie, Beth, Carol, and T-Dog. Any time Prince Humperdink was mentioned, Daryl would snort lightly or mutter "Walsh" under his breath.

When Sera finished the part where Buttercup trades her freedom for Westley's life, and the Count takes him anyway, she stood to check the fire.

"Aw!" Maggie frowned from her spot beside Glenn. "Don't stop now! What happens to Westley?"

"He fights his way free, duh!" Beth rolled her eyes at her sister.

Sera shook her head tauntingly. "What makes you so sure about that?"

"Because! True love doesn't just end like that!" Beth looked around at the others. "Right?"

Sophia bounced in her seat. "Please keep reading!"

"Let me set the fire to rights, and then I can read until dinner."

O:O:O:O:O:

As stomachs started to rumble, Sera finished the journey out of the Pit of Despair and marked their place to the sounds of protest from the audience.

"We'll read some more tomorrow, guys. It's time for dinner."

"Need a hand?" Daryl had long since given up the charade of working on small things while Sera read. Hershel and Rick had joined the group of listeners, so he felt free to quietly enjoy the story as well.

"That'd be great," Sera tossed the book and wool into her tent and retrieved the thick leather gloves while Daryl waited. "Like the story so far?"

He shrugged as they walked to the fire. "That Prince is a moron. The giant is stupid. Spanish guy seems alright. Westley's the only one with a decent chance at anything."

"I think you'll really like Inigo by the end. Just wait." _After all, _Sera thought to herself, _Daryl understands the importance of family and the need to show others that they're not better than you._

Daryl didn't answer, focusing instead on moving the embers from the top of the Dutch oven and then pulling it from the ground. Using the end of her Hooligan, the top was removed and the steam roiled out, carrying with it the aroma of tender meat and something vaguely dill and peppery. Seeing the thickened broth and shriveled herbs, Daryl grinned up at Seraphim before holding his hand out for a bowl.

As he was in control of serving, Daryl reversed the usual order a bit. Whereas Rick, Shane, and Lori were usually the first to receive their food, tonight Carl and Sophia were given large bowls of stew and hunks of flakey bread before the men were given theirs.

Seraphim took over once Daryl ladled out his own bowl and went to sit on a long log. She served Carol and the others before getting some for herself. Seeing that Carl and Daryl had already cleaned their dishes, she divvied out seconds for them and then sank down beside the younger Dixon.

"So," Seraphim grinned across the fire. "Is it as horrifying as you thought it would be, little man?"

Carl looked over from his spot between Sophia and Rick. "Nah, it's really pretty good."

"Don't sound so shocked," Sera winked and dipped her bread heel in her stew. "My Ma was a great camp cook."

"She teach you everything you know?" Shane was sitting on the end of a log a few feet directly to Sera's right. As he spoke, he leaned in so that he could level the full weight of his smile and big brown eyes on her.

Daryl flicked his eyes over the deputy and then smirked into his bowl. "It's in the blood, like huntin' or trackin'."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Andrea really **did **sound insulted and accusatory, as if she had been personally insulted.

Daryl, not caring what the blonde thought of him, simply shrugged. "You're either a good cook, or you're not. Can learn to be decent and not completely bad, but being good ain't taught."

"After Ma died, Daddy and a few of my brothers prob'ly would've starved if I hadn't been as good as I was."

Dale lightly cleared his throat. "What's in this? If you don't mind my asking."

"I don't mind at all," Sera smiled at the older man's blatant change of subject. "Daryl's squirrel and rabbit make up the bulk of it. Dandelion, dock, goosefoot, and some pussy willow helped the taste and to thicken the broth."

"Well, now," Hershel chuckled lightly. "How about that."

Sera finished her bowl and then looked at the kids. "Ya'll wanna go get the berries? They're in the bucket behind my tent."

"Sure!" Sophia spoke for both of them before they sped off in a run.

Sera simply turned to speak over her shoulder, "pour the water out b'fore you bring 'em this way."

Sophia's soft laugh and her "yes, ma'am" floated back to the fire.

"I don't appreciate you teaching my son how to shoot." Lori's voice was a box of razorblades. "That's not your decision."

Sera refused to look at the other woman, instead taking the bowls out of Daryl and Glenn's hands and refilling them. "Cleared it with Rick first."

"I'm his mother!"

"And I'm his friend." Sera peeked into Maggie's bowl and ladled more stew on top of the few bites the girl had left. Raising her eyebrows in question at Hershel and Beth, she smiled and complied when they both extended their hands for more. Carol refused with a soft smile and a shake of her head. "I want him to be able to take care of himself and to watch my back if I ever need it."

Daryl helped himself to the last bit of bread and then lifted his right leg to rest his ankle on his left knee. "Ain't no reason the boy shouldn't know how to at least handle a weapon."

"It should have been discussed with me." Lori's jaw ticked as she over-enunciated each word, as if to illustrate with sound the difference between herself and the two of them. Sera knew then that the other woman would never even admit to seeing her point. "Especially after you knew last night that I didn't want him going in the first place."

"He's my son, too," Rick looked at his wife as if he wasn't sure who he was seeing. "He can't just keep going along as if nothing has changed. He needed to learn, and Sera volunteered to teach him."

Carl and Sophia returned, the boy carrying the bucket while the girl's hand hovered over the knife she now wore at her hip. Sophia had obviously remembered Sera's words on taking care close to the woods.

"Sera's cool, mom," Carl was busy splitting the berries up between everyone and missed the acidic look Lori sent the younger woman. "Daryl was there to keep a lookout in case something tried to sneak up on us."

"Lucky," Sophia took both her bowl and her mother's and moved to sit down. "We didn't have a lookout when she taught me."

"That's because there was no one to help us out." Accepting her bowl from Carl, Sera savored a mulberry's sweetness. "Remember how we had to stop every time there was a noise?"

"I remember you throwing me over your shoulder and running like a crazy person." Sophia raised her brows in challenge.

"There were eight walkers coming at us! We needed to move."

"Well, yeah," the girl's voice bespoke of how idiotic she thought that statement had been. "But I could have ran, too."

"Didn't say you _couldn't run_," Sera's response was just as childish as the teen's, and she winked at the blonde. "I can just run faster with you on my shoulders than trying to move and keep an eye on you."

Sophia settled on sticking her tongue out at Sera and rolling her eyes. She settled in beside her mom to enjoy her desert, grinning slightly when Carl's hand reached out for a brief moment and rubbed her back softly.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

Daryl watched the interactions around the fire with the interest and focus of a seasoned hunter and tracker. Shane was staring at Seraphim in a way that said he owned her, and Daryl wanted nothing more than to wipe the snide smirk from the other man's face. Lori and Rick were throwing glares at each other that may have been responsible for more heat than the glowing fire, and he had a feeling her dirty little secret had been found out. Hershel made no secret of his growing admiration for Sera's knowledge, but his eyes held no heat when he looked at her, and Daryl was glad that is seemed to be a completely mental attraction. Beth, Glenn, and Maggie were all discussing the book Sera had been reading to them earlier.

Five cherries, held by their stems, were dropped into his bowl. Darting his eyes in her direction, Daryl caught Seraphim's light shrug.

"I hate cherries. A lot."

Nodding, Daryl went back to picking through his berries and watching the others; specifically the other men. Glenn's left hand slowly trailed up and down Maggie's back as they spoke. Carl had been sitting pretty close to Sophia for the last two days, his hand often touching her back or arm. The kid, Jimmy, sat opposite of Glenn at Beth's other side, his hand occasionally brushing her shoulder or thigh as they spoke.

Looking back at the bowl in the space created by his crossed legs, Daryl had an idea. Scooping out the small handful of mulberries with his left hand and resting his right against the small of Seraphim's back, he turned to her and dropped the berries in her nearly empty container. As he pulled away, he could not resist letting his work roughened fingers graze along her spine experimentally. Her sharp intake of breath brought his eyes up in time for him to see the ghost of a smile on her perfect lips.

Across the fire, Carl said something that made Sophia giggle.

Glancing at Sera, Daryl leaned to speak to her softly. "Did the guy who wrote that book have Walsh in mind when he came up with that idiot, fruity prince?"

Seraphim giggled lightly and bumped her shoulder against his, sending warmth down his arm. He had a feeling that these little things meant more than he knew. Maggie was leaning against Glenn now, and Beth had laced her fingers through Jimmy's. Sophia was so busy trying to make sure no one was watching her as she glanced at Carl that her berries were only half eaten.

_Yeah, _Daryl decided. _I'm doing something right._

Once Carol collected the dirty dishes, and everyone took a moment to thank Sera for dinner, she turned to Daryl and offered him a smoke. "You're definitely going to like the end of this story."

"Don't see how there's much more." Daryl mimicked the way Glenn sat facing Maggie, straddling the log and linking his ankle behind Sera's dainty boot. "Kinda hard to keep a story goin' when the hero's dead."

Sera began unpinning her hair so that the thick braid rested down her spine. The days were hot and humid, but the nights were starting to get just a hint of a chill. "Weren't you paying attention? 'Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it a while.'"

"Uh huh," seeing the younger man's leg move, Daryl let his denim clad shin slide slightly along the outside of Sera's bare calf. "It'd take a freakin' miracle."

Sera chuckled. "Just wait. You'll see."

A visible shiver worked its way across Sera's shoulders, and Daryl used going for his own pack of cigarettes to return Sera's offer as an excuse to go to his tent. Snatching the pack up from his cot, he turned and retrieved one of the flannels that still had sleeves from his pile. Returning, he sat in front of her and then wrapped it around her shoulders so that he was almost hugging her slight body. He felt ridiculous attempting something he had seen in a movie once, but the smile she sent him completely erased the feeling.

"I can get you something cleaner, if you're cold." Shane's voice broke into the quiet moment. "No need to smell like dead animals and dirt just because you've got a chill."

Sera turned to look at the ex-cop. "Why? This is soft and cleaner than most of my clothes, plus it smells like fresh air and Daryl."

Visibly scoffing, Shane glanced at the other man over her shoulder. "That's my point, exactly."

"Glad we agree, then," Sera sent Daryl another slight smile. "Though, I didn't know you noticed how good other men smell."

Daryl's chuckle surprised even him, and he found himself openly smirking at Shane's insulted face. _That's right, fucker. She thinks I smell __**nice**__. Now, even __**I **__know that's a good thing._

"You would do good to remember who is a decent person in this camp, and who is nothing but a product of a broken home and screwed up childhood." Shane's voice was pitched low, but Maggie must have heard, as she whipped around to frown at him.

Sera drew her back up to sit straight. "And you, Mr. Walsh, would do good to remember that no count, backwoods trash sticks together. Also, I am still a woman who can care for herself and others. Daryl is still a hunter, tracker, and provider. What is it that you do, again?"

If Shane's glower could have caused physical harm, Sera wouldn't have left the conversation without a few broken bones. As it was, however, Shane simply stood from his seat and climbed the ladder of the RV to relieve T-Dog on watch.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

Daryl soon found himself sitting alone with Seraphim by the fire, enjoying a rare quiet moment. Sera had pulled one of her shirts from her tent along with a small tackle box full of threads and needles and sat sewing while he smoked. He thought about just pulling her over his lap and kissing her, but that would be too much like the quick, drunken hookups he used to have in the cab of his old truck.

_How do I do this? _Daryl glanced over as she cut her thread and held up the now mended shirt.

"You're pretty good at that." He was kicking himself for picking such a mundane topic until she smiled at him.

"Thank you! If you've got anything that needs sewn, just drop it off for me."

"Nah, you don't need to be working on my nasty clothes. 'Sides, they're all dirty, anyway."

"Wouldn't mind at all, really," Sera folded the shirt and began repacking the kit. "Gives me something to do before bed to let my mind settle a bit."

Daryl nodded his understanding. It's important to let the day go before you go to bed some nights. Keeps dreams easier and sleep better. Decent sleep is necessary to work the next day. It was one of the many valuable lessons of his childhood.

Sera stood and dusted off her shorts. "Well, I think I'm gonna head to bed."

With the difference in their heights, Daryl's eyes were level with her exposed navel, and he fought back the urge to lean forward and slide his tongue over the indentation. His shirt swamped her small frame, falling to her thighs and covering her hands. He wanted to slide his hands under the worn material and feel the supple skin covering her spine.

"I'll walk ya. Should turn in, anyway." He tossed the filter of his cigarette into the fire and then began the longest walk of his life, including the trek through the woods the day they met.

It took hours to walk the twenty feet to her tent, and Daryl's hands were twitching so hard he shoved them in his pockets to keep them contained. _What if I do this wrong?_

Sera tucked a few loose curls behind her ear, looking up at the bright, clear stars. "I like it here. Reminds me of home."

"Yeah, it's nice."

"You okay?" Sera set her things just inside her tent and turned to look at Daryl.

"'M fine. Why?"

She shrugged, and his shirt began to slide off her right shoulder. "Just seem distracted or worried about somethin' is all."

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Daryl carefully grasped the edge of the shirt and slid it into place. His tongue unconsciously rested between his teeth, pressing against the middle of his upper lip. His hand on that shirt was suddenly the most fascinating thing he had ever seen, and he stared at it for a few seconds.

"Daryl?" Sera's whisper was a caress.

He finally managed to meet her eyes. "I need to do somethin'."

"Okay, I'll see you in the morning." She took a step away from him as if she meant to enter her tent, and he grasped the shirt tight to hold her in place.

"Dar—"

His lips against hers cut off the confused question, and then there was silence.

O:O:O:O:O:

Sera's mind went completely haywire as his mouth brushed hers. Once. Twice. There was almost no pressure, as if he were afraid that she would run away if he pressed too hard. It wasn't until he sighed with what could only have been disappointment and began to pull away that she realized she hadn't responded.

With a sigh of her own, Sera took a small step closer and tilted her head up to encourage him. Her fingers came to rest lightly at the base of his neck, and she drew light circles on his tanned skin as she waited for his reaction. The feeling of his callused palm against the skin of her back caused her to gasp softly, opening her mouth against the heft of his full lower lip.

Daryl's response was immediate and far more decisive than she had anticipated. A low growl crawled through his chest. The hand on her back drew her closer. The fingers that had held the collar of the flannel minutes before slid effortlessly into the hair and the back of her neck, weaving though the braid and holding her still. He did not demand or force her movements, but simply held on to her in a way that allowed him to feel where she was going on her own.

When his tongue slid across her lip, Seraphim's world shifted and her universe changed. The ground no longer rested beneath her feet, gravity no longer existed. The only force in the universe holding her together or down was the man who stood with her wrapped in his arms. She took no notice of her sense tunneling down until they were all preoccupied with the taste of lips, the smell of sweat and fresh air, the sound of a softly pleased growl, the occasional glimpses of skin or piercing blue eyes, and the touch of warm rough skin against her own.

The kiss ended far too soon, and Sera let herself lean forward a bit to hold on to his lips for a second longer.

"Oh, okay." The words where more breath than sound.

"Sorry 'bout that. Didn't mean to be so rough."

Sera shook her head. "You weren't too rough. That was. . . That was really, really good."

"Yeah?"

Sera suddenly realized that Daryl wasn't aware of how much she had enjoyed the kiss. How could a man capable of reducing her world to the size of his lips and hands be so unsure of himself? Not wanting to point out that he obviously knew what he was doing, she simply drew his head down to softly kiss him again. When she drew back, he was grinning slightly.

"Yeah." Taking a step back, Sera moved towards her tent. "In fact, you should probably make doing that as much as you can a habit."

Daryl nodded and took a step in the direction of his tent. "Um, okay?"

"Night, sweetie."

The endearment threw him off for a heartbeat, and then he was smiling as he turned to open his tent door. "Night, Catchfly."

Seraphim threw herself down on her sleeping bag as soon as she entered the tent, sighing softly to herself and letting her fingers dance over her warm and tingling lips.

Ten feet away, in the dark confines of his own space, Daryl lifted a fist to the sky.


	14. Storm's Brewing

**Not as long as normal, but that's what happens when your main computer dies and you're trying to get things done. Also, if anyone wants to beta this thing for grammar/agreement, I wouldn't complain. Part of this is for BakerTennet'sTardis with a shout out to MollyMayhem84 and ChooseJoy. Also, welcome to FrankieKaos and hello to RachelNicole523.**

**Should probably warn you that there be wompage here. Shane is extra icky.**

**Re-edited BECAUSE I HAVE MY COMPUTER BACK! (Yes, it needed three.)**

The next day dawned as rosy as Seraphim's thoughts. When she stepped out into the stillness of the morning, the air itself seemed awash with a pink blush. The clouds obscuring the just-rising sun were an angry scarlet edged in purples and grays.

"Gonna storm," Daryl's voice was more gravel than the driveway this early.

Sera nodded and turned to face him, smiling at the arm load of laundry. "Got some things to wash?"

"You asked..." he suddenly seemed unsure.

"Sure did." She pointed to her pile. "Throw 'em in with mine. We'll see what I finish 'fore the rain hits."

After his clothes were put aside, Sera saw he carried his crossbow on his back. "Are you hunting this morning?"

"Yeah, need to before the animals go to ground."

Sera nodded and began gathering her tubs, buckets, and washboard. "Don't go too far. May hit b'fore noon."

"Nah, I'll be close enough to yell."

"Good."

A hesitant brush on her shoulder had Sera standing and turning around. Daryl's face was a mask of uncertainty before he took a breath and marshaled his features into a slight frown.

"So..." The frown he now wore would have made her take a step away from him days before.

Glancing around, she was assured they were alone and stepped closer. "So. . . What?"

"I stopped to say I'm goin' hunting."

Sera cocked her head to the side slightly. Her father used to say that it made her look like a confused puppy, but it still happened without her knowledge. _What is he going on about?_

Daryl's right foot shuffled slightly, and he gripped the strap of the crossbow with his left hand. It was his eyes drifting from the ground to her lips and the slight lift of his right hand that finally tipped her off. _The man just wanted a goodbye kiss!_

"Hey," checking to make sure that the only other member of camp awake was Dale who was on watch, Sera slid her arms around Daryl and then around his biceps. She took a moment to luxuriate in their coiled strength. "I'll see you in a bit. Be careful, okay?"

Daryl's right arm clasped across her shoulder blades and drug her until his chest absorbed her heat. When she craned her head up to face him, his other hand into her braid and held her still. His forget-me-not eyes bore into her spring grass orbs before he quirked a smile and dropped his mouth to hers.

She was instantly glad for his warm skin under her hands and the iron arms around her. Before or after a kiss Daryl seemed nervous or uncertain of his reception. During one, however, he was a gently dominating force of nature. Every sense and thought was captured and controlled until nothing existed outside of his embrace.

Daryl drew reluctantly away and then grinned wickedly at her happily dazed expression. "See you in a bit."

He chuckled and nodded her back to her laundry before he swatted her right butt cheek and disappeared into the trees.

O:O:O:O:O:

Laundry had gone surprisingly quickly, and she was finished before the other inhabitants of camp were all fully awake. She had accepted that stains and spots were simply permanent a long time ago. She washed only to remove grime, blood, stench, and stiffness. Now, the laundry was hung on a line and draped on tree branches to dry. She had eaten breakfast as soon as Carol had it ready and returned to finish the last of her clothes.

Stretching her arms over her head, Seraphim was glad she packed some cotton shorts. Some would have bemoaned the lack of proper gym shoes, but she had spent a good chunk of each year barefoot, from early spring until the first snows, and still enjoyed the feeling. The rest of her usual stretches went smoothly, and she was soon jogging lightly in a circuit around the camp and house, drawing a few looks and not caring at all.

Sophia soon fell into step beside her. "What'cha doing?"

"Warm-up," her voice was steady where Sophia's was already becoming breathy.

"What for?"

Sera sent her a smirk. "A nap."

"Oh, ha ha."

Coming to a halt under some trees, Sera turned to the younger girl. "Any clue how much you weigh?"

"Nope."

Sera nodded and continued warming up her muscles. "Have you gained any since we got here?"

"Uh. . . No?"

"Mind if I check?"

Sophia's answer morphed into a surprised squeal as her feet left the ground. She found herself draped over Sera's shoulders and wrapped her arms around the redhead's bicep. Before Sophia's giggles could abate, Sera fell into a deep lunge and began the most interesting workout anyone at camp had ever seen.

The next hour was spent either using Carl and Sophia as weights or listening to their commentary. Lunges were followed by push ups then box jumps using a sturdy crate. Carl had laughed and insisted that jumping wasn't a 'real' workout until Sophia dared him to do ten. He admitted defeat after five, and was aghast when Sera completed the whole sequence twice more.

The two children went through Sera's usual cool-down of light jogging and yoga with her before all three returned to camp and caught Lori complaining to Carol and Andrea.

"She's a bad influence," Lori angrily folded one of Carl's shirts. "I don't care what Rick thinks, I've told Carl that he shouldn't be around her."

Andrea snorted inelegantly and used her chin to indicate the newcomers. "Yeah? How's that working out for you?"

Sera, sensing a battle, sent Carl and Sophia with Beth to find some plants to go with dinner. She could tell Lori was working herself into a lather. It was not necessary for the kids to hear what was going to be said.

"Why do you insist on taking my son?"

Helping herself to some water, Sera shrugged. "He comes around me mostly to have something to do and to be around the Chickadee. I **let **him stay mostly because you're an over-dramatic bitch who's too busy playing at high school games to keep an eye on your own damn kid."

Andrea gave a choking laugh and moved to Carol's side. The graying woman turned wide eyes to the blond briefly before going back to watching the scene in front of them.

"How can you even say that?" Lori's eyes blinked rapidly, though tears did not appear, and her mouth contorted insipidly around her whine.

Sera's face was unflinching and steady. "Easily."

"I've never been so insulted -"

"Not to your face, anyway."

A wordless screech was Seraphim's only warning as Lori attacked. Two steps brought the thin brunette clone enough to grab a handful of red curls. Wrenching the younger woman's head to the right, Lori managed to land two decent slaps before Seraphim reacted. Bringing her left foot down, she hooked her right behind Lori's ankle. Pushing forward, she sent the older woman onto her back. At the last second, she grasped a flailing arm and softened the impact of the fall. Holding Lori's arm long enough for her to understand what had happened, Sera leaned down to speak directly into her face.

"Do not do that again. I'm nice, but I ain't **that **nice." Sera stood and retrieved her water. "You want to mouth, that's fine. Don't go puttin' your hands on me though or we'll have us a problem."

Nodding to Carol and Andrea, Seraphim went to wash up and check her laundry, hoping they were dry. The clouds were a vast expanse of gray, sliding across and into each other. If things weren't dry she decided, she'd have to set up something for them to finish drying on in the corner of her tent.

_I wonder if Mr. Hershel would be willing to let me use his shower? _

O:O:O:O:O:

Daryl dropped the rope of squirrel and rabbit off with Carol before going to the pump to wash. While he had stayed within yelling distance of the tents, the animals had been out in abundance. Knowing the storm may last well into the next day, he had opted to stay out in order to supply enough meat for at least breakfast the next morning. The sky had morphed into a frothy purple and black bruise as he tracked, and now fat drops began to plop into the hard dirt.

"What I want to know," Shane's voice was oozingly conversational as he strode up to stand by the pump. "Is what makes you think you could ever be anything more than a cold screw and a hot meal to that pretty little girl?"

"Shut up, Walsh." Daryl watched the cop's movements while seeming to focus on getting rid of the dirt and blood under his nails.

"Saw that kiss when I was on watch last night. Pretty sad there, redneck."

_Gonna kill the pig. _Daryl snorted and spit to clear his throat while squinting angrily at Shane. _Could take him out somewhere. Make it look like he just decided to leave._

"That what they teach you back in the 'holler'?" Shane exaggerated his accent and waggled his head at the woodsman. "You'd think your cousin would put on a better lesson before sending you out with other girls."

Turning to face the taller man head on, Daryl tried to ignore the itch of his right hand wanting to draw the knife at his hip. "Fuck you, pig."

"Go for it," Shane smirked knowingly. "You knife me, and you'll be gone before you can spit.

"You gone? I'll get all the space I need to see if her carpet matches the drapes." Hitching his pants up, he grinned menacingly. "Hell, I could go down there right now. Doubt she'd protest too much."

The two began circling Shane attempting to get the upper hand and Daryl remembering that choke hold too well to allow it.

"Even if she **did **protest, no one would believe her."

The knife made a hollow sound as it smacked against the empty water bucket as Daryl tossed it at the same time he launched himself at his antagonist. Taking the taller man down, Daryl brought his forehead down onto his nose before rearing up and landing a hammer-like blow across his jaw. The rain was now falling steadily, muffling their blows and making their movements unsteady in the thickening mud.

Daryl's leg slipped on the wet ground when Shane twisted his hips, causing the deputy to gain the upper hand. He caught Daryl with a sharp right, a spurt of blood from the nose telling of his success. Daryl, hardened by both his childhood and more recent years of bar fights and living with his brother, was far from phased. He began landing blow after blow to the man's ribs, smiling viciously as he felt one crack and give. Rolling, they both rose to their feet and began circling once more.

Daryl blocked a sloppy body shot and countered by stepping in close to Shane's body. This made it difficult for the cop's long arms to be effective. He landed two more rib shots and finished with an uppercut that sent Shane toppling just as a muscular black arm locked around his chest and hauled him away.

"Daryl man," T-Dog grunted with the effort of holding him back. "What the hell?!"

Rick was there as well, pulling Shane to his feet. "What is going on here?"

"The crazy asshole attacked me!" Shane was wobbling as he let Rick support his weight.

"I will stomp your ass if you even look at her, you sonuvabitch!" Turning hostile eyes to Rick, he seethed. "Your partner here said he was gonna get Sera, an' it didn' matter if she said 'no' or not."

T-Dog cursed softly and eased up on his hold. "Shane, man. Really?"

Shane scoffed. "What? It's my fault this backwoods idiot can't take a joke?"

"That is not something to joke about." Dale's voice cut through the now sheeting rain before he turned to Daryl. "Let's go get you cleaned up. I told told her I'd come check so she'd stay put in camp."

As Daryl began to retort, he glimpsed the topic of their conversation. She stood outside her tent in the pouring rain. Her hair was completely unbound, the curls all but obliterated by the water, and hung down to her hips. One hand rested on her hip while the other shielded her eyes from the downpour.

"I got it." Daryl shook off T-Dog and pointed at Shane without saying a word. He then stepped around Dale to retrieve his hunting knife.

O:O:O:O:O:

Sera hated to stay back at camp while the men ran to see what the commotion was up by the pump. Dale had assured her that he would tel her what was going on, however, and Sophia had looked as is she would follow if Sera went. If it was just a fight among the men, that wouldn't be a problem. If it were a walker or the aftermath of a walker, the younger girl had seen enough of that already. Carl stood behind the two of them, silently offering support to whoever needed it. Lori was inside the house directing Carol and Maggie on how to cook, as if she were the expert.

When things looked to have calmed down, Sera turned and sent the two kids up to the house to dry off and help out where they could. When she looked up, it was to see Daryl speaking with Rick and Dale. They briefly made eye contact before he went to fetch something from near the pump. Then, he was walking down the hill.

The sight of him squinting against the rain, his blue eyes all the more striking for the lack of surrounding color, as he strode toward her caused her to shiver deliciously. She pulled self consciously at he wet blue shirt and contemplated escaping into her tent for just a moment. Before she could decide, Daryl's large hand was cradling her cheek where a slight scratch rested from Lori's earlier attack.

"Yer **my **girl." His soft voice was a growl as his fingers moved to twist lightly in the hair behind her head. "Ain't nothin' happenin' to ya."

She nodded slightly, and then his mouth was on hers.


	15. Schism

**MollyMayhem84 - Hope this lives up to expectations!**

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**Kaleiburzz - Pretty sure I'm not interrupting class with this one, right?**

Sera had mopped up Daryl's bloody nose and shooed him into his own tent to change out of his disgusting clothes while she changed into something less sopping, and now he stood inside the dry tent feeling completely bewildered. His clothes, both what he had handed to Sera and those that had been left lying all about the tent, were neatly folded in piles according to the body part they covered, with the shirts also separated into those with and without sleeves. The pair of jeans he was holding, selected even though he knew the knees had long since been worn through and ripped, were now sporting neatly applied patches of dark denim. There were a few shirts and at least one pair of pants missing from the stacks.

"Good Lord," he caught a chuckle and rubbed his hand over his face slowly.

She had done his laundry as they had discussed, but it was the neatly stacked clothes and those that were missing that made him chuckle. One of Merle's friends had spent six years complaining that his wife was too particular about the laundry, and then crying about how he missed it once she left him. Women had their own way of doing things, as far as Daryl could tell, and Sera was the kind of woman that didn't see laundry as being finished until it was neatly put away. The absence of closets and drawers didn't change that. It didn't take a genius to figure out that she had kept some to sew.

_If you're gonna do a job, do it right. _Daryl chuckled again. _I hunt for food and protect her while she sews and looks out for me. Good deal._

He changed quickly and ducked out of his tent to make his way through the deepening gloom to the main house for dinner. Between hunting and tracking all day and the fight with Shane, he had worked up quite an appetite. While the thought of eating anywhere close to the cop was a little off-putting, Daryl refused to go hungry.

_It's my damn kill. _Daryl looked up to see Sera watching him from where she stood on the porch smoking a cigarette. _'Sides, need to make sure the girl eats something. She's too damn skinny. _

"Hey," her voice was oddly muffled by the rain. "It's not quite done yet."

Daryl retrieved a smoke of his own and leaned his back against the railing. "Gonna have to cut back on these. Who's on watch?"

"Nah, I've got a few cartons and quite a few bags of tobacco that can be rolled." Sera bent to rest her forearms on the wood beside Daryl's leg. "T-Dog's up in the attic keeping watch. The windows are open to let in sound and they let you see in all directions. Rick and Dale will take rotation after him."

Daryl nodded and watched as she took a final drag on her filter before flicking it in a wide arc out into the night. "Least it's drier than the roof of the RV."

"True. Very true," Sera took him in from the corner of her eyes. "Do you have any clue what Whori Lori was yelling at Maggie and Glenn about earlier? Saw 'em when I was working out with Carl and Sophia, but couldn't just ask the kids. That girl looked like she wanted to rip the bitch apart."

Daryl chuckled at the use of such a nickname. "No clue."

"Ever gonna tell me about the fight you had with Officer Dipshit?"

"Why should I? Haven't Dale and Glenn already filled you in?"

"Dale did mention more than a few things to me, yes." She giggled slightly as she nodded.

Daryl snorted and nodded as well. "That man's a bigger gossip than the women."

"He really say that about me?" Sera moved against the railing, letting her hip rest a few scant inches away from his.

Daryl could only nod.

Sera quirked an eyebrow up at him. "Did he not remember that whole thing about knife fighting the other night? Or did he think I was joking?"

"No clue," Daryl rubbed the hair at the back of his head. "Kinda forgot about that part, myself."

"Well, thank you for defending me." She let the fingers on her right hand graze the knuckles of the hand gripping the wood beside her. "Even though I can take care of myself pretty well, it's nice to know that I don't always have to."

The screen door slapped open and brought their attention to their new company. Sophia smiled and almost danced over to stand in front of them. "Almost time to eat and Mr. Greene says that we can sleep inside tonight on account of the rain."

Seraphim nodded and took a step toward the door before she glanced back to make sure Daryl was following. He made a bit of a production out of taking the last puff of his cigarette and then sending it out into the rain, just to make her smile and roll her eyes in the way that said she was not impressed. The smoke ring he blew at the very end made both girls giggle, and he felt his lips responding reflexively.

"Sera?" Rick's voice broke the quiet moment, and Daryl frowned darkly at the other man standing in the doorway. "Can I talk to you a second?"

Sera smiled slightly at the others. "Ya'll go on in and save me a seat. I'll be there in just a bit."

Daryl nodded and held the door open for Sophia before speaking quietly. "What's that all about?"

"He probably wants to talk to her about the fight earlier." Sophia shrugged, completely unconcerned. Rick was a good man, and Sera could handle anything as far as the younger girl was concerned.

"What does she have to do with what the dumbass said?"

Sophia giggled and shook her head dismissively. "Not your fight with Officer Shane, silly. The fight she had with Mrs. Grimes."

"What the hell?"Daryl was unable to hide his shock.

Sophia nodded and glanced through the window to where Rick was pacing.

"I heard Miss Andrea say that Mrs. Grimes started in on Sera, and so Sera called her an over-dramatic. . . b-word," Sophia raised her eyebrows and nodded gravely so that Daryl would know which 'b-word' was used. "Then, Mrs. Grimes **hit her**, but Sera only tripped her a little and told her not to do it again."

Daryl processed the information before he shuffled to lean against the living room wall just beside the door to the dining room, motioning Sophia into the room with a jerk of his head. From here, he could keep an ear on conversation in the next room and an eye on Rick's movements through the window.

_Can't trust a man to be logical when it comes to his woman._

O:O:O:O:O:O:

"What can I do for you?" While Seraphim wasn't stupid and knew he wanted to fuss at her about the earlier altercation, she abhorred rudeness and thought it best to be polite whenever possible. Besides, Daryl's bloody face combined Shane's bloody face and limping walk bespoke of a far more intense brawl.

Rick came to rest in Daryl's former position, and Sera caught movement through the window in her peripheral vision. Daryl had taken up position on the living room wall, and she wasn't sure if she should be happy that he cared enough to keep watch or insulted that he felt she couldn't handle herself. Rick's next words drove her thoughts about the hunter from her mind.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Sera felt her eyes grow wide as she focused on the deputy. "I'm sorry?"

"While I appreciate what you did for Sophia and Carol, I can't have this sort of unrest in the group." He was looking at her shoulder or the porch's whitewashed ceiling more than he was meeting her eyes, and Sera knew the decision had not come easily. "Shane and Lori are dead set against you being here."

"Well, good for them," Sera rolled her eyes. "Not bein' welcome is nothin' new to me, you know. It just irks me that your wife attackin' **me **and Shane being an asshole to Daryl amounts to me havin' a problem."

Sera shook her head. "That's bullshit, Rick, and you know it."

"Look, I –," Rick took a step toward her, and Sera sidestepped him in favor of walking down the stairs.

"Forget it, Rick." She shook her head without looking back. "I'll need the night to pack my things, but I'll be gone by dinner tomorrow."

She gave a wave of her hand over her shoulder and continued her march, head held high. Leaving Daryl and Sophia would be difficult, but Sera knew that she would survive just fine on her own. After a few tears and a few more months, she'd be able to think of them with a smile.

Maybe it was time to go back to her family's property. She should at least go see what was left of the place and try come up with a new plan. Her father was a big proponent of having a set plan and goal in place, even if that had to be revised or abandoned completely.

"Always know what you're tryin' ta do, Brat." Her father's voice was always a quiet baritone in those moments when he spoke to only her. "Don't go getting' everyone killed tryin' to take the same hill over and over, though. That'll only get you shot."

_When in doubt, always listen to Daddy. _

O:O:O:O:O:O:

Rick came through the front door slowly, peering over his shoulder out into the growing storm. When he turned, it was to come face to face with a very noticeably angry hunter. Daryl's brows were drawn so low that it was impossible to clearly see his eyes. His fists were tight around the strap of his crossbow at his chest that his knuckles were a pulsing white. He worried the corner of his upper lip with his teeth as he stared at the other man.

"That hell just happened?" His voice was full of a hostile recrimination. _Somethin' this asshole said upset the girl. What'd she ever do but protect herself from Olive Oyl?_

"Daryl, I know you like her, but she can't stay." Rick shook his head and sighed heavily. "I can't have this kind of problem in camp. Hershel isn't very happy with us being here as is, and I need for things to be as peaceful as possible while I try to convince him to let us stay."

"So she's a problem, huh?" Daryl nodded and chewed at the skin on his thumb as his mind cartwheeled and then became resolved. "Well, let's see what kind of problems ya'll have without someone to do all the huntin' and shit work."

Daryl moved quickly, striding into the dining room before Rick could react. Moving past the table, he reached the kitchen just as Carol, Maggie, and a quietly gloating Lori were preparing to carry the meat platters in to the others. Daryl met the latter's shining brown eyes with his own blues, spitting fire and daring her to speak a word to him. When the woman took and involuntary step back, Daryl felt his lip twitch in an uninviting smirk.

Retrieving a heavy burlap bag from the counter, he used the side of his hand to clear each platter in turn, not meeting the eyes of Carol or Maggie, who had done nothing wrong but were dealing with the aftermath just the same. "If Catchfly ain't welcome, neither am I."

"Carol. You, Carl, and the Chickadee are free to come to dinner if ya want." He looked over to the very confused woman. "If they're too good for us white trash, they're too good for white trash food."

Daryl's powerful legs took him through the dining room, past a glowering Rick, and nearly to the front door before he turned to look at the assembled group and finding Glenn. "Yo, Shortround! Get yer girl and come to dinner."

"Mr. Dixon?" Beth held out a serving bowl of mashed potatoes she had covered with a plate to stave off the rain.

Daryl looked at it, and then up at the girl. "You bring 'em."

"The rest uh ya can c'mon too." He let his eyes travel to the two older men and Patricia before resting on Rick and then Lori, refusing to acknowledge Shane at all. "Leave the other three. Don't want 'em stinkin' up Sera's tent."

There was an explosion of voices behind him as Daryl stepped off the front porch and through the pouring rain. He could see a faint light through the open door flap of Sera's tent, and could tell that she was moving around inside. She was probably packing. Daryl smirked as he crouched under the small overhang in front of her lodging and thrust the bag of food inside.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

The smell of food was Seraphim's first clue that she had company, and she was extremely glad to see the scuffed, dirty knuckles of her favorite redneck holding the bag. Drawing the fabric of the door open further, she smiled slightly and hoped it came off as more than a grimace. Daryl just nodded grimly, handed her the food, and slid out of his boots before stepping into her relatively clean tent.

"Thanks for the food," Sera found her camp plates and began to reach for the bag when she realized there was far too much meat for their shares. "What's this, then?"

"Told Officer Friendly I ain't welcome where you ain't, and that my food ain't goin' to people who think they're too good for us."

"So you just took it?"

Daryl shrugged. "Told the Chinaman and his girl to come eat. Pretty much invited the whole house to dinner if they left the three assholes there. Doubt they let the boy come, though."

Sera watched a flicker of emotion flash into his eyes and knew he didn't want Carl to go hungry because of what his parents did. "I'll send a plate for him up with someone if they show."

"Anyway, more for us then." Sera dished out a large plate of Daryl and took one for herself as well. "I am so hungry today! Workout days do that to me, though. Always have."

Daryl's question about her fight with Lori was interrupted by the arrival of Glenn, Maggie, Carol, Sophia, and Beth. The latter looked uncertain of her welcome until Sera smiled and handed her a plate.

The tent was not meant to seat seven, but they made due by getting a little snug with each other. Glenn was more than happy to pull Maggie into his lap, and Daryl slowly worked up the courage to do the same as Sera finished serving the food. Everyone had a **much **larger share than normal, and dug in with gusto. Maggie giggled as she described Lori stomping about and giving orders for Rick to come down and get the meat.

"If he was hoping to stay here by getting rid of you, he was vastly mistaken." She produced some rolls from a small bag she carried. "My dad likes you more than any of these other assholes."

Daryl snorted and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "That's not hard."

"I cannot believe that bitch – sorry, Sophia – would do this to you!" Maggie huffed. "She had no right to pick a fight with you and then go whining about it to her ball-less husband. I don't care if she **is **up the duff!"

Sera, who had been reaching into her bag for a plastic container of honey to drizzle on the rolls snapped upright on Daryl's knee. "Lori's pregnant?!"

"I think that's why she's so been so emotional and stuff lately." Glenn nodded. "That's what we went to the pharmacy for earlier."

"She was going to try to get rid of it." Maggie made no attempt to hide her contempt and dislike of the other woman. "Nearly got bit getting her those pills, but Glenn saved me."

"But I hit a pregnant woman?" Sera's stomach was suddenly located in her left ankle.

Sophia saw her distress. "You didn't hit her, just sorta tripped her a bit. Besides, you kept her from hitting the ground too hard."

"It would take a lot more than a little trip to hurt the baby." Carol's voice was quiet, but Sera had the feeling she spoke from experience.

Sera finished her meal and placed the plate on the floor beside her bag. She'd wash up after the rain stopped and before she packed up her tent. Daryl's fingers played with the ends of her curls between bites, calming her and allowing her mind to slowly process the task before her.

"So," Carol's quiet voice sounded so much like her daughter's. "When do we need to be ready to leave?"

Sera jerked her head up in surprise, and Daryl felt a curl snag on his knuckle. He rubbed at the sore spot on her scalp, and she settled more comfortably in the cradle of his legs. While he wasn't too at ease with her position, it mirrored Glenn and Maggie's so he felt it wasn't inappropriate with the current company.

"Carol?" Sera had to dip her head at an angle to get the other woman to meet her gaze. "Why would you want to leave the safety of the farm and the group to come with me?"

"No one else went out to look for Sophia the way Daryl did. You found her and helped her look for us. You two did more for my little girl than her own father ever did, and **that **makes you family." Carol smiled down into the face of her daughter and then back up to Sera and Daryl. "Family sticks together."

"Now, hold on!" Maggie scowled around the tent. "Who said **you **had to leave?"

Beth's quiet voice joined her sister's. "Yeah. We like you."

"This is my father's land! Just because Rick's a whipped ass doesn't mean my father agrees with him." The brunette pointed over her shoulder. "I say you move your tent up on the hill next on the old foundation."

"Rick just needs some time, guys." Glenn's voice nearly cracked in his haste to defend his leader. "He just had a baby sprung on him, and I think he just found out about Lori and Shane, too.

"The guy has been through a lot of crap in a short amount of time."

Maggie nodded. "All the more reason for you guys to stay until things settle down a bit."

Daryl nodded. "The old foundation would be a decent place. Close to the pump, not too close to the fence line. Chimney'll give some shade since there's no trees."

"Sounds like a plan." Sera sighed. "I'll have to pack and unpack anyway, but it shouldn't be too bad. Give me time to decide if I have the guts to try to make a break for my family's house and see what's left of it all."

"You're going to leave?" Sophia sounded as if she wanted to cry. "Just like that?"

Sera shook her head. "Not 'just like that', Chickadee. I just don't like being where I'm not wanted."

"**I** want you here!"

"I know you do, honey. I think I'll stay for a while, see what happens."

With the decisions made, the tent slowly emptied of Sera's company. Glenn held his jacket over Maggie and Beth's backs as they hugged the redhead and he nodded silently to the equally quiet Daryl. Carol gave a flickering smile and waited quietly for Sophia, who hugged Daryl's waist briefly and then Sera's more tightly.

Daryl turned to Sera after watching to make sure the departing group made it to the house's porch with no problems. "We'll pack up at first light or whenever this rain stops."

"You're coming with me?" Sera's eyebrows were lifted in surprise as she tilted her face up to look into his eyes. "Thought you'd want to stay where it's safer."

"I go where you go." Leaning in quickly, Daryl pressed a kiss to her lips. "Now, what the hell did you do to my pants, woman?"

Sera's delighted laughter danced out into the rain.


	16. To Town and Back Again

**Huge thanks to MollyMayhem84 for the use of "Whori Lori"! I hope this chapter helps with your need for fics.**

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**Special thanks go out to for research purposes and ChooseJoy for making this better than it was before. **

"Thank you," Seraphim spoke from where she sat on her sleeping bag.

After the others had left, Sera invited Daryl to hang out in her tent for a while. He took the opportunity to sharpen her knives for her, though she kept them in decent condition on her own, and then began making bolts for his crossbow. Sera was working her way through the articles of clothing she had taken from Daryl's tent to mend, fixing seams and patching what she couldn't simply sew together.

Daryl sat in the camp chair he had set up near the door working on some fletching. "What for?"

"Standing up for me, bringing me dinner," her smile was small and secretive. "It was very sweet."

"I ain't sweet." He spit out the last word as if it were a crab apple, and Sera fought back a giggle.

"Right." She nodded and held up the graying, soft flannel shirt she had just finished working on, wishing she knew where its sleeves had gone. They would've made excellent washclothes or bandages. "Does this look okay? I used that red shirt that couldn't be fixed for the patches. It doesn't really match."

"Why the hell would it matter how it looks? Fits and isn't full of holes, right?" He really didn't care if it matched or not, and could find at least twenty other things he was more concerned about than holes in his shirts, but it seemed to make her happy to sit and sew while they talked quietly.

She shrugged slightly, folded the shirt neatly, and reached for the pants. The knees were obliterated and there here a few small holes peaking here and there along the legs. "I don't know if I have any denim pieces big enough for these knees."

"Use whatever," Daryl let his eyes linger over her face and neck while she frowned down at the pants. "Like I give a shit what's on the knees."

"You sure about that?" She held up a pink tank top. "Could use this."

"Yeah, whatever." He snorted in amusement, but kept an eye on her to make sure she didn't go through with it.

Looking through her bag of scraps, Sera began the process of finding a suitable material. She had to find one that wasn't overtly girlish, could stand up to some wear, and was large enough to cover at least the two knees. She narrowed things down by size of scrap available and durability before finally selecting a deep green t-shirt that had tiny shamrocks printed in rows across it. _It's this or pink with tiny flowers. _

Erring on the side of caution, Sera chose the green and began cutting large rectangle from the back of the shirt. Making them twice as big the holes, she was able to double the material to add warmth and durability. The first knee was nearly finished when her hand began to ache from overuse.

Stretching, she decided it was time for a break. Setting her things down, she neatly folded what she could and gathered it all together in her mending bag. It wouldn't be good to just leave needles and thread laying about when she would have to pack up the next morning.

"Think it'll rain in if we open the door?" At Daryl's questioning look, she held up her nearly empty, and slightly rumpled, pack of Marlboros. "I could use a smoke break."

Daryl shrugged and put his work aside before pushing open the flap. The overhang kept the rain from sneaking in, and he motioned for her to come closer. "Should be okay if we stay back here."

Sera moved to sit cross legged just inside the door before she lit up and passed the pack and lighter to Daryl and looked out into the storm. There were few lights on in the house, the windows casting an eerie sheen over the land closest to them. The trees danced and swayed in the sheeting rain, their branches whipping about faster than her hair at a Luke Bryan concert.

"Glad we have the woods behind us." She gestured to the scene outside. "Cuts down on the wind some."

"Gonna be hard to hear any walkers, though." He was surprised to see a sudden realization in her eyes. "Didn't think 'bout that, did ya?"

Shaking her head, Seraphim looked up at him briefly. "Should we go inside? Am I being stupid by not asking Hershel if I can come inside?"

"Doubt you could ever be stupid," he shook his head. "May have to make a break for the cars, though, when it comes time to sleep. I ain't sleepin' in that house with Walsh."

"We could both fit fine in my Jeep," her eyes flicked up to meet his and then back. "If you don't mind sharin'."

"Don't mind." He could feel his ears warming and hoped she didn't notice.

Sera chose not to point out the scarlet tips of his ears, focusing on something else instead. "Daryl? Why haven't you tried anything yet?"

"What?" He had been studying the way her red hair curled even more in reaction to the rain and thought he misunderstood what she had said.

Sera shrugged and trained her eyes on the world outside the tent. "Just wondering if I'm doing something wrong is all."

"The hell you goin' on about?" He couldn't hide his confusion, and wrinkled his nose in reaction as he spoke. "Ya think somethin's wrong with you 'cause I ain't been all over you?"

"Well, I'm used to men reacting a certain way. Being alone in a tent would be enough invitation for just about every man I've ever known." Sera shrugged. "If you're not attracted to me like that, it's okay. I'll understand if you were just trying to keep me safe from Shane or whatever."

"I'd have to be blind or stupid to think yer not pretty." Daryl couldn't seem to lift his eyes to hers, focusing on a errant blade of grass instead.

Sera nodded to herself. It had to be something she was doing wrong, then. "Okay, then what am I doing that you don't like?"

"Askin' stupid questions?" When she simply pursed her lips and stared at him, Daryl shoved at her shoulder. "Scoot over. Ain't talkin' down at ya."

After she had moved, Daryl left his chair and lit another cigarette for both of them before sitting in the doorway with her. _Need to tell her somethin', but she doesn't need details yet._

"My mom died when I was little. She drank and fell asleep smokin'. Burned the whole house down around her." He waited for the usual empty words, but received only a soft look of support and decided to move on. "My older brother, Merle, started using drugs when I was little and he was around thirteen. He wasn't around much after that. Spent a lot of time in juvie before he turned eighteen and joined up."

Sera had the feeling there were a lot of missing details. However, she also knew that she was hearing things that he didn't share easily, or at all, so she remained silent and simply continued to smoke and look out into the night rather than risk making him uncomfortable. "Must've been hard."

"Would've been fine if my old man hadn't been an asshole." His voice stalled out on a waiver, and Sera suddenly understood without him saying what his childhood must have been like. "He wasn't a nice person. Not like your pa sounds like."

"Daryl," when he looked to her, she smiled just slightly. "You don't need to tell me anything you ain't wantin' to say. I'm not goin' anywhere."

"Need to say this, though." He flicked his already finished cigarette away.

Sera nodded encouragingly and slid her left hand over to link her little finger around his. She wasn't sure if he was a hand-holder, but she needed a little contact and he didn't pull away.

"My brother. He. . . He felt like I needed to be more of a man than I was when we were younger." He began using the nail of his index finger to pick at the skin around his thumb. "I'm not good with talkin' to girls, so he'd sometimes find one who wasn't so particular. Didn't want me to go without or somethin'."

"Nothin' wrong with bein' shy," she caught the flash of anger in his eyes and hurried to finish her thought. "Just not havin' anything to say isn't bad, either. Makes what you say mean more.

"My youngest older brother, Michael, doesn't speak so well to other people. Keeps to himself more than most." Taking her last drag, Sera emptied her lungs of smoke before speaking again. "My oldest brother would sometimes take him out to the bars and keep him out all night. Probably the same thing, though they never told me so."

Daryl nodded. "Probably."

"I have to admit that I'm a bit confused." Sera tilted her head to rest against his shoulder. "What's this got to do with me?"

"Don't you get it?" He jerked his shoulder away from her, pushing her back. "I'm not good enough for you –"

"Dar-"

"I ain't done!" His shout stole her voice, and Sera nodded quickly. "I ain't good enough for you right now, but I'm gonna try to be."

At her obvious confusion, he continued.

"Tryin' to be nicer to the kids, 'cause you're good with 'em and probably want to be a mom. Need to learn when to fight and when not to. Wouldn't have fought Walsh, but he said that shit 'bout you, and a man can't let that shit go."

Taking a deep breath, Daryl continued. "I ain't been after you for nothin' because you're better than that. Better than any woman I ever touched. You deserve to be someone's girl for a while before –"

Seraphim's lips cut off the rest of his explanation. He held still for a moment before accepting the rather chaste contact. Pulling back a few inches, Sera held his eyes with hers.

"That's just about the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me."

Daryl scoffed. "Told ya I'm not sweet."

"Tell you a secret about girls, hun." Sera looped her arms around his neck to play with the hair at the back of his neck, enjoying his slight shiver. "All women want a bad boy who is good only for them, or a good boy who is bad only for them."

Incredulous, Daryl pulled back a bit. "Makes no sense, woman."

"Since when do we always have to make sense? Where's the fun in that?" Drawing herself closer to him, Sera whispered softly into his ear. "Just keep being sweet only to me and you'll be just fine."

He cleared his throat, though his voice was still as rough as gravel through a lawn mower. "Yeah?"

Sera placed a slow, deliberate kiss in the spot behind his ear before she drug her lips along his jaw while she whispered "Yeah."

"Catchfly…" the sentence was somehow not as important as the tiny nips she was placing along his chin.

Her soft moan sent ripples of pleasure up his spine and into his brain. "I love when you call me that."

"Daryl," she spoke into the column of his neck. "I'm gonna kiss you now, and I'm gonna keep on kissin' ya. You just stop me whenever you want, okay?"

When he nodded, she slid her right arm around his shoulders and her left into his hair where she grasped a handful. She moved to her knees in order to have leverage and bent at the waist instead of leaning against him to allow him some space in their new position. Dropping her mouth to his, she nibbled at his lower lip before sliding her tongue past his teeth and into the cavern beyond. Daryl growled low and pulled back a little.

Before she could do more than look up into his eyes, Daryl's mouth came back down onto hers. She managed to utilize higher brain function long enough to push everything behind her as far right as her arm could reach while the rest of her pushed closer to the man's welcome heat. His left arm moved up her back to weave work-roughened fingers through her hair and cushion her head as he pushed forward to lay her down, surrounded by her packs and the trappings of his hunting.

Sera let her hand skim over his shoulder blades and neck to pull him closer. A small moan forced its way out of her mouth when Daryl drug one hand slowly over her ribcage to settle on her hip. It was stolen and tasted by the hunter's demanding lips, and he growled low with his pleasure at knowing that she was enjoying what he was doing.

Pulling away from her lips in order to pay attention to her neck, he worried the patch of skin where it met her shoulder with teeth and tongue. The small bruise that resulted brought a possessive smirk to his lips. "Why do you taste so good?"

Instead of offering a verbal reply, Sera drug his mouth back to hers. She couldn't get enough of his taste, wanted to somehow surround herself with the warmth and smell of this primal, addictive man until she carried his scent on her skin and in her pores. If there were a way for her to climb into him through his mouth, Sera would have slid down his throat and wrapped herself around his heart.

Daryl's hand clamping down on her hip and pinning her to the floor made her aware that she had begun shifting against him. The smaller, softer kisses let her know that he was withdrawing, but kept her from feeling rejected. If this incredible, astonishing, perfectly imperfect man wanted to treat her better than she had ever been before, why would she be upset? She may have to find a bit of alone time in order to take care of herself the next day, but she would survive quite well.

Daryl shifted to stretch out on her right side, allowing one of her curls to wind around one finger over and over as he looked into her eyes and at anything else by turns. "Probably went a bit too far."

"Oh, don't apologize." Sera pointed her toes and undulated in an attempt to ignore the heated ache that had begun to pool low in her abdomen. "That was far too good, and I refuse to let either of us feel sorry about any of it."

His low chuckle sent another shiver down her spine before he spoke. "We should get to your car. Getting' late and we got shit to do in the morning."

Sera thought about sprinting through the rain and groaned. "Yeah, you're right."

Without another word, Daryl rose and collected his crossbow. Turning to her, he held out his hand. "Keys?"

She unclipped the carabineer from her belt loop and handed it over with a raised brow. "I can unlock the doors just as fast as you."

"Know that," he shrugged. "No point in both of us getting soaked."

Without another word, he ducked out into the rain and jogged over the muddy grass to her Jeep. He managed to pull it less than two feet from her tent and cut the engine just as she slid into the back seat with her knives and bow. Her sleeping bag was rolled up and tucked under her arm.

"Come along, Dixon." She smiled and waved him into the back with her. "We can share."

He had to climb out of the driver's seat and duck around to climb in the back door, but he slid in easily. She handed him the two extra pillows from the back and began to untie and remove her boots while she waited for him to get comfortable leaning against the door. That done, she curled around his legs and snuggled into his chest, dragging the blanket over their legs. He began to drag his fingers over her hair, and she was asleep soon after.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

When Sera blinked into awareness, it was to find that she was alone on the seat. The pillows were under her head, and a large hunting knife rested where her smaller blade had been the night before. Grinning at the silent 'take care of yourself while I'm gone', she threaded its holster onto her belt and retrieved the keys from the center consol. She knew he would've gone hunting in order to take advantage of the animals' morning activity since they would need time to prepare them and they could move the tents whenever.

She had just finished packing up the entirety of her possessions, save the tent itself, when Glenn and Maggie made their way down from the house. "Hey guys."

"Hey yourself," Maggie smiled and offered her a peach and some toast, which she took happily. "How goes the packing?"

"Not bad. Just have to get my tent together and then start on Daryl's if he isn't back before then. I'm making good time, so I should have him pretty well moved before then."

"We didn't mention you guys heading up to the hill." Glenn looked a bit nervous, and Sera decided that he was not good under pressure if he had time to think about what was going on. "Also didn't say anything about Daryl."

Maggie smirked. "They all think he slept in his tent and went out hunting for the whole group. Well, Lori thinks that, anyway."

"Lori's a stupid bitch." Sera finished the peach and plopped the pit into her mouth to suck on as she surveyed what was left to do and took stock of what she would need to scavenge. "Gonna need to see if I can find me a clothesline and some extra buckets if I'm gonna have his clothes to do as well as my own. Some more soap wouldn't hurt, either."

"Glenn and I were going to run into town this afternoon, but I'm too nervous to go back yet. Why don't you go with him instead?"

"You're okay with that after the scare you two had?"

The brunette nodded determinedly. "Forgot to get some things my dad really needs from the pharmacy, Carl needs some pants, and you need stuff for your camp. I'm sure Glenn knows where all the stores are by now."

"Alright, cool." Turning to Glenn, she gave a nod to her tent. "I'll get this broken down and moved up to the hill. You two get the horses ready and meet me up there when you're ready."

Realizing that she was giving him as long as he needed to be alone with Maggie, Glenn grinned. "Sounds good."

After they left, Sera made quick work of her tent and realized that she still had quite a lot of room in the cargo area and back seat of her Jeep. Shrugging to herself, she began gathering Daryl's clothes and smaller supplies. She'd leave the tent and camp bed for him to break down, but some of his things would be used between the two of them. She ducked out of his tent to see Carol standing beside her car.

"Morning," Carol smiled indulgently and then let her eyes trail nervously around the still empty camp. "Should I be packing?"

"Mornin'," Sera shook her head. "You and Sophia stay down here where it's safer. Besides, I'd hate to come between her and Carl."

Carol smiled slightly. "They are so cute together."

"Yeah, they are. Queenie wouldn't take you guys coming with us lightly."

Carol nodded. "You're right on that one, but Sophia isn't going to be happy with us staying."

"Since when do teenage daughters agree with everything their mommas say?" Both women smirked. "Besides, ya'll are more than welcome to come and go."

Carol nodded and moved to start the morning fire. "Just be sure to let me know if I can help with anything."

"Yep. Oh, I'm heading to town with Glenn in the next little bit. If you get me a list together, I'll see what I can find."

Carol agreed and the two went on with their morning's work. Carol would greet various members of the group as they trickled from the house, and some came to speak with Sera when it became clear that she had no intention of leaving the farm. While most were genuinely welcoming and happy to have her stay, Lori made no effort to conceal her venomous glares.

"Aren't you about ready to leave?" Sera hated the saccharin sweet tone the woman used, reminding her of some of the more gossiping ladies at her church. "I wouldn't want to be out on the road at night."

"I wouldn't either." Grunting, Sera ripped the first of the stakes from the ground. "Good thing I'm not leaving, huh?"

Lori blanched. "But Rick –"

"Doesn't own the place." Sera glanced around at their witnesses before blatantly turning her back on the smaller woman in order to pull the next bar from the ground. "Contrary to popular belief, neither you nor your husband have been made God in the last little bit."

When it became obvious that Lori wouldn't speak again, T-Dog stepped forward. "Why are you packing up?"

Sera gestured over her shoulder to the hillside. "Headed up that way."

The crowd dispersed when it was clear that she was finished speaking and Lori did not have another comment. Dale clapped a hand on her shoulder and offered her a small, closed mouth smile. T-Dog nodded approvingly. Andrea looked uninterested, as was usual.

It wasn't quite midmorning when Sera looked up from where she was pounding steaks for her tent at Camp Exile to see Glenn and Maggie walking two horses up the hill.

"Ready to go?" Glenn looked downright twitchy. He kept checking and rechecking the various straps and buckles on his horse.

At her nod, Maggie stepped forward with a familiar bag. "No one else knows you have these, but like I said before, Daddy likes you."

Sera smiled at the familiar weight of all her guns before she sat it down and readied her holsters for the silenced pistols, strapping them to either thigh. Another set of leather straps went around her shoulders and down her spine, allowing her to slide a shotgun over her right shoulder like a sword. Checking to make sure all were loaded, that she had more ammo, and that all safeties were engaged, Seraphim considered herself loaded for walker.

Snatching up her empty backpack and checking the horse's saddle to make sure she'd be able to tie more supplies onto its back, Seraphim stuffed three more empty packs into a saddlebag. "Carol had a few things we should look out for, though nothing is an emergency."

She let the two young lovers have a moment to say goodbye and wrote Daryl a quick note so that he would know where to find his clothes as well as a reference to checking out her "new" bag so that he would know about the firearms. While she hoped to be back by early afternoon, there was a chance that he would have to start dinner, so she left instructions to place a bundle of herbs she left tied to the note in the broth. That finished and tied to the front of her tent, she slid into her horse's saddle effortlessly. It may have been a little over a year since she had ridden, but she had spent a good part of every summer riding through the fields on her grandfather's farm.

She and Glenn made it to town with no trouble. Seraphim even managed to goad him into cantering with her along a deserted road, the hooves beating out a wonderful rhythm that sounded a lot like freedom. The town was just as Glenn last saw it, an odd brownness settling over the streets and buildings as Nature began the slow process of reclaiming what was once hers.

"Pharmacy's just down there. Want to stop along the way or put the horses here and work our way back to them?" Glenn let his eyes move over the streets and buildings as he spoke, trying to make sure they wouldn't be surprised.

Sera withdrew a pistol and looked around as well. They would need to go through the pharmacy and a hardware store at bare minimum. The two stores were on the same three block stretch of the main street, though on opposite sides of the road.

"Do you want to hit the pharmacy and I make a go of the hardware store? Looks to be few, if any, walkers."

Glenn looked at her as if she were in the process of singing 'I'm a Little Teapot' while dancing a jig and plucking a live chicken. "And have to face the wrath of a very frightening redneck if something happens to you? I think not!"

"Oh, Daryl isn't that scary." Sera snorted and urged her mount toward their first destination.

Glenn followed. "Um, are we thinking of the same Daryl? Have you **seen **that man's arms?!"

"Well, yes," Sera couldn't cover the small smile that slid across her lips. "Nice, aren't they?"

"If by 'nice' you mean 'able to rip a young Korean man's head off in under two seconds, if he decides to be nice about it', then suuuuuuuuuure." Glenn shook his head. "I would probably end up begging for death if I let something happen to you."

Sera chuckled softly, but had to admit that she wouldn't want to be Glenn in that situation. Daryl wasn't very good at controlling his anger, and she had a feeling there were times when he didn't even try. Staying together, the two friends moved into the drug store and began taking what they needed.

The stores were easily searched, and their supplies loaded, when Sera caught sight of a building no one had mentioned before. An old style saloon stood at the corner of Main Street and an alley, its windows adorned with signs that had once beckoned the weary and jubilant alike to come inside. A vision of handing Daryl a bottle as a present drifted into her head, and she tossed Glenn the reins.

"I'll be right back."

"Why?" His voice almost cracked with worry. "Where are you going?"

She jerked her head toward the bar. "Gotta get Daryl a prezzie."

"Huh uh!" He gave a frantic shake of his head. "Hershel doesn't want alcohol in the house."

"Good thing we ain't in the house, then, isn't it?"

"But-"

"Just wait out here. I know what I'm lookin' for."

Not giving him a chance to protest further, she jogged across the street and up the steps. The doors gave easily, a sign taped to the door welcomed everyone to 'get drunk as hell' one last time, and she slipped behind the bar quickly. Closing her hand around two new bottles of Jack Daniels, she tucked one under her arm and then retrieved a case of Pepsi that had been left on the solid mahogany. She stepped out of the bar to see Glenn standing on the small porch, speaking quietly to someone she couldn't see.

"The pharmacy down that way has a few things left. Hardware store is almost full." Glenn stepped back and to the side when he heard her place the box and bottles down behind him. "This is the friend I told you about."

Sera was momentarily angry that he had mentioned her at all until she shifted her eyes to take in the man in front of him. His hair had once been dyed black, but not sported lighter brown roots. There were bags under his green eyes, and a lip ring glinted in the noonday sun from the side of his lower lip. Heavily tattooed, muscular arms peaked out of a Social Distortion t-shirt.

"Hello," his eyes remained on her face after a cursory glance at her weapons. "Glenn was just telling us where we could find a few supplies. My name is Phil, though people usually call me Punk. My friend, AJ, twisted her ankle a few days ago. This is the first town we've come across that wasn't overrun."

Sera noticed a tiny young woman in the front seat of an old Mustang parked in the middle of the street and nodded a hello. "The hardware store has some wood that'll work well for splints and a few wrap bandages close to the register."

"Fuckin' A!" The man had almost turned before he caught sight of the box behind her legs. "It that Pepsi?"

"Yeah." Sera smiled at the look in the man's eyes. "You want it?"

His eyes lit up, and she was reminded of her nephews on Christmas morning. "Really? I know it's probably flat and hot, but it's my favorite."

"Yeah, really. Got anything worth trading?" Pointing to the step, Sera picked up the carton. "You stay where you are, and I'll set this on the step. Don't mean any offense, but. . . "

"None taken. Hey, I've got some cigars. I don't smoke, but thought they may come in handy to trade. Have four."

Running over names in her head, Sera smiled. "Make it five, and you've got a deal."

"Deal." He counted five cellophane-wrapped cigars from a box. He placed them on the railing of the porch before turning to the soda. Scooping it up with the air of someone who had just won the Stanley Cup, he stowed it safely in the back seat.

Saying their goodbyes and well-wishes, they parted ways soon after. While she felt comfortable enough to speak to the two strangers, she didn't want them to be able to find their way to the farm. The fewer people who knew about their temporary haven, the better. Taking Glenn off the road, they moved through the woods for a time before rejoining the road and trotting easily along.

They had just passed the Greene's mailbox when she encouraged her chestnut mount into a faster trot, looking at Glenn with a sly grin. Glenn clicked his tongue and eased out ahead of the redhead. With a whoop, Sera kicked her heels and was suddenly thundering over the sunlight ground, Glenn laughingly racing along beside her.

Sophia and Carl saw them coming and ran to bracket the drive back to the barn. The adults looked concerned until Seraphim's joyous laughter spread over the group. Dale and Hershel chuckled in that way older men use when they are amused with the exuberance of youth. Andrea remembered the way Amy loved it when she would drive just a bit too fast in her Mercedes. Daryl had not been happy when he arrived at their new camp only to find her gone, but her laughter told him better than any words that she was fine, and that Glenn could be trusted to bring a little good in the world.

Sera raced past Sophia and Carl with another whoop, standing a bit in her stirrups and waving her hat like a man who'd just lasted 8 seconds on a prize bull. Seeing Daryl standing with Dale, she eased her mount around.

"I won!"

Daryl chuckled slightly and reached up to help her out of the saddle. "I see that."

"Gotcha somethin'." She couldn't help the cheesy smile plastered on her face from her good day and great race.

He was unable to hold on to his earlier anger in the face of her dazzling smile and shimmering emerald eyes. "Yeah?"

"Yep." Sera let Maggie take the reins while she unloaded her goods. "I'll show you while I get the rest of this unpacked."

Maggie was smiling at Sera and Glenn. "Everything go okay?"

"Yeah, but I about had a heart attack when Miss Independent here decides she's gonna run into a shop alone and left me to deal with strangers."

Glenn's statement drew the entire group up short and silenced Sophia and Carl's calls to see what they had brought back.

"Everything okay?" Rick's voice grated on Sera's nerves, and she refused to answer his questions.

When Hershel looked at her expectantly, however, she spoke to him honestly. "It was fine. Just lookin' for supplies, same as us. Told them where to get some things in the hardware store. Came back through the woods a piece just in case."

"You forgot trading the Pepsi away for cigars."

Sera lifted a shoulder carelessly. "Thought the men'd like a real smoke after dinner."

"What about us?!" Carl looked scandalized. "We would've liked the soda!"

Sera rolled her eyes. "Like I'd go to town and not bring ya'll somethin'."

She turned to Carol and raised her brow teasingly. "Carol? Did they do their chores?"

The older woman nodded. "Without a problem."

Reaching into one of her packs, she pulled out two boxes of gummy bears. The kids both cheered and hugged her before heading back to camp. Grinning at Dale and Hershel, she invited them up the Camp Exile after dinner, making it a point to tell Dale to bring T-dog and Glenn, before shouldering one bag and reaching for the others.

"Go on," Daryl smirked and hoisted the two other packs.

Sera grinned playfully and lead the way up to their tents. "Thanks for the help."

"Don't mean I ain't still unhappy with you."

Sera placed her load beside a log Daryl had rolled over to sit beside the fire. "For what?"

"Ya left!" He dropped the packs, and she was glad the alcohol was in the one she carried. "I come here, expecting to see you workin' or readin', and you weren't nowhere to be found!"

Suddenly, Sera got a different perspective of her morning. _I thought nothing of leaving the farm for a while, and he was worried. _

"D, honey," Sera stepped up to where he stood chewing a nail and glowering at her. "I didn't mean to worry you. I guess I just thought you knew I could take care of myself."

"Could've been too many walkers or someone could've surprised ya." Daryl didn't bother to remove the skin of his thumb from his mouth as he spoke. "That man **did**, and you were lucky!"

"I know, baby," Sera ignored his frown at the endearment and pulled his abused skin from his mouth to place a soft kiss where his teeth had just been before lacing their fingers together.. "I won't go off without you knowing about it from now on unless it's an emergency. Okay?"

"Yeah," he brought their clasped hands to rest in the small of her back and pulled her close enough to nuzzle the light purple mark he'd made in her skin the night before.

When she sighed heavily and tilted her head to allow him more access, he luxuriated in the feeling and smell of her flesh while sucking the light bruise through his teeth. After a couple passes, the hickey had turned an acceptably dark shade of purple. Lifting his head, Daryl bit his lip and gave her a devilishly ornery grin.

"Just needed to leave a mark, huh?" Sera openly rolled her eyes and turned to her tent, only to have her back pulled into Daryl's chest.

"Yep." His mouth came down on the opposite side. "Think you may need another one. Right. Here."

Sera giggled and let her head drop back to rest against his strong shoulder, content in her little bit of the world.


	17. A Hunter Goes Out

**BakerTennant'sTardis - There's a bit of cuteness in here for you!**

**GypsyWitchBaby - I think they get each other quite well.**

**FanFicGirl10 - You may hate me for the end of this one.**

**KaleiBurzz - There should be a few things in here for you to comment on. I look forward to your review.**

**MollyMayhem84 - Hope you like this one as much as the last.**

Dale, Glenn, and T-Dog had come up to Camp Exile after dinner, as Sera had requested earlier in the day. Hershel made his way up the hill only after Maggie insisted he should "get out more", and pointed out that he genuinely liked Sera's personality. He refused any of the whiskey, but gladly accepted the offer of a cigar and company. The others all sipped out of mismatched cups as they sat around the small fire puffing away.

"What about you?" Dale knew she smoked, and seemed concerned that she was missing out on something she may enjoy. "Why don't you have one?"

"I don't like cigars, really." Sera smiled at the older man from where she stood beside Daryl, pouring herself a small cup of the amber liquid. "Besides, I only traded for five."

"But you could've been enjoying your evening." T-Dog was leaning back in the chair Sera usually sat in, sipping his drink and caressing his cigar with his eyes.

Sera only chuckled. "But I **am **enjoying my evening. This is just the kind of evening I liked when I was home from school."

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable with more girls around?" Hershel's voice held the authoritative ring of a man used to wielding the power of a father.

"I grew up with five older brothers, no sisters, and parents that had more important things to do than make sure I had afternoon tea parties. I don't generally do well around a lot of girls." Sera had brought a small leather pouch out to the fire, and made herself comfortable on the ground beside Daryl's chair. She looked up at the hunter. "Take off your boots."

"Huh?" Daryl looked uneasy and confused.

Casting her eyes around the fire, Sera laughed at the looks she was receiving. "You have a hole in the sole of your boot. I can fix it, but not with you wearing it."

There was a sigh of relief from the entire group, and Sera took a sip of her whiskey before quirking an eyebrow. "What did you think I was gonna do? T's in my chair, I don't want to finish my book without reading it to the kids, and between me and Daryl, we have my weapons in top order. That leaves mending, and Daryl's boots are far more important than another pair of jeans or socks."

Glenn nearly choked on his drink. "You can fix **socks**?! I mean, that's actually possible?"

Sera accepted Daryl's right boot and set about surveying the damage before she glanced up at Glenn. "It depends on where the hole is and how good the material, but I can usually at least help them last a while longer."

"Would you mind teaching me? I've got a few pair, but one's more hole than sock at this point."

"No, not at all." Sera pulled out her razor knife and began slicing at the rubber to allow her room to work. The low hanging sun and the firelight afforded her enough coverage to allow her to see where she needed to ply the sewing awl in order to work the heavy thread through the leather. "It's been a while since I've taught anyone, though, so you'll have to be patient with me."

"Is that another one of your survival lessons?" T-Dog was watching her hands closely.

Sera smiled and began pulling some string out of the awl and worked it through the bottom of the boot, placing her hand inside only after the metal instrument was still. She had been poked with a sewing awl before, and did not want a repeat of the experience.

"No, not really. My Pappaw – Daddy's father - made and repaired shoes and boots." Sera grinned at the memory of happy afternoons spent in a quiet, sunny room surrounded by rubber and leather and bathed in the smells of shoe glue and boot black. Her grandfather had been a quiet man, and Sera had adored the tranquility of his home.

"He made the tops as soft as true love and the soles as hard as a landlord's heart." She waited for Hershel and Dale's chuckles to die down before she continued fondly. "I'm nowhere **near **as good as he was, and I can't make my own from scratch or anything, but I can make holes in boots waterproof again."

Glenn smiled. "You really liked your grandpa, huh?"

"Yeah. His house was always so peaceful and calm." Sera chuckled. "I don't think my house was ever quiet."

Daryl noticed the way she shifted, how she would slightly stretch her back and then sigh. He looked around, but there were no other girls around. Maggie had not come with Glenn or Hershel, and he wasn't sure what he should do. Shifting slightly, he lifted the Jack bottle to pour himself some more, leaning over Sera's head to hand it to Glenn. As he sat back, he placed his leg directly behind the redhead, slightly touching her spine. Her quiet sigh as she settled back against his shin brought forth his own small grin. _Nailed it, even without the kid's help._

His self congratulatory thoughts were interrupted by Hershel's quiet voice. "I had two younger sisters growing up, and I know how I was with them. You having five older brothers must have resulted in a few interesting situations."

Sera scoffed lightly, but didn't move her eyes from her work. "If by 'interesting' you mean embarrassing, horrifying, and sometimes just confusing or sad, then yes."

"That bad?" Daryl nudged her slightly. His small family was not what anyone would call together or normal, and he wondered what hers was like.

Sera shook her head. "Not always, but sometimes. Just sorta hard bein' the only girl, you know?"

"What're their names?" T-Dog spoke quietly, knowing that it could be a sticky subject with the state of things.

Sera chuckled, anticipating their reaction to her brothers' names. "Remington, Duke, Trigger, Tommy, and Mike."

Glen nearly fell off the log with his laughter, patting Dale on the shoulder in thanks when the older man kept him upright. "How did the last two get normal names?"

"Momma let Daddy name the first three, so she got the last. No clue how it worked out that well."

Dale smiled, "Who's your favorite?"

Sera rested fully against Daryl's leg as she continued to sew as she spoke, sometimes gritting her teeth as she worked the awl through the boot. "Rem and Trig."

"Why those two?" Daryl wanted to know what her brothers were like, if he would have fit in among them.

"They're all good hunters, trackers, teachers, and all that. But those two are **always **up for a good time, a joke, or a turn around the floor at a dance." A sardonic chuckle worked its way out of her chest. "When Daddy started drinkin' for a time, Rem and Trig would take me out huntin' or fishin' so I didn't have to see it too much. Rem even started takin' me to school on his horse from time to time because it made me giggle."

Daryl's next question was quiet, though it carried in the slowly darkening evening. "He drink a lot?"

"Not when I was real little, and he was always a happy or sleepy person when he did drink. But, he lost his job when the mill left town. I was twelve at the time. Lasted until I was almost fifteen, and he hit momma once. She set him right real quick after that."

"How?" T-Dog tapped some ash from his cigar.

"Sent me and Mike to Rem's for the night and sat up waitin' on him in the kitchen. When he finally came home she laid him out with her old cast iron skillet, put a kitchen chair over his shoulders, and sat in it until he woke up.

"She asked if they were done, or if they were gonna have ta do tha' again. He said they were done, and she let him up to get a shower."

Hershel was incredulous. "And she wasn't worried that it wouldn't go well?"

"She grew up a Mosley, and the Mosley women aren't afraid to take a hit or to pick up a weapon to even up their odds." Sera shrugged as she finished up the seal on Daryl's boot sole. "She picked Daddy 'cause she knew he weren't violent like her daddy had been, and she wasn't about to sit around and watch him get that way. I guess she just needed to hit his reset button."

There were a few nods as she finally stretched her legs out straight while she packed up her kit for the night. Pulling Daryl's boot on her own foot, she let it rest close to the fire to speed along the glue's drying. Leaning forward, she held her cup out for Glenn to add a few shots of the amber liquid.

"Besides, he was just happy that she told Rem to let her try to handle things first." She smiled and tilted her head against the strong knee behind her. "My brothers may not be angels, but they sure as hell wouldn't put up with that."

"You told us about traveling with Tommy and Mike," Glenn was always the curious one. "What about the others?"

"Duke is down with my mom's parents in Alabama. He was workin' a shrimp boat down there before all this started." Sera sipped her drink. "Rem and Trig had gone with Daddy to some big hunt up in Montana at our cousin's place. I don't know where they are.

"Momma was with us at the beginning, but our house was getting' surrounded." Sera finished the last of her Jack and sighed. "She uh. . . She took off yellin' and drawin' the walkers away so we could get the little 'uns in the cars. I don't know what happened to her, but. . . . yeah."

"Sorry to hear about that." Hershel's words were echoed by everyone, and Sera gave a watery smile at their condolences.

Daryl thought back to his own mother, and how different she was from Sera's momma. His mother never lifted a hand to help him or Merle against their father. She wasn't the sort to bake or worry about knowing what plants could help and what could hurt. That woman would have left them to starve or left them surrounded by walkers if it meant she could save her own skin or score another fix.

_Sera is from better stock. _He let his fingers rub against the back of her head, enjoying her quiet sighs and the way she would press against his hand and leg when he found a spot she liked. _Bet she'd be a perfect momma. Always there to kiss hurts or to protect her kids. _

The conversation soon turned to other things, and Sera smiled into the fire. This was exactly what she had wanted to happen when she ducked into that bar. A calm evening of male energy for her, and a chance for Daryl to be around the other men without the prejudiced opinions of Shane and Rick clouding their vision.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

Sera emerged from her tent early the next morning, though she could hear that Daryl was already awake in his. She started the fire and cracked a few eggs to scramble while she used a stick to knock a potato wrapped in foil from the still warm embers of the night before. They could at least have a decent breakfast before Daryl went out for the morning.

"Goin' after a deer today. May not be back by tonight." Daryl went over his internal checklist of weapons and supplies as he spoke. He would need to a few more things than usual if he was going to make an overnight of it.

Sera pulled the last of their breakfast off the fire and put most of the food on a plate for him. She'd have the day to eat, after all, and he would have a far more difficult time. "How far out do you think you'll be?"

"Don't know. Few miles, at least." Daryl was eager to move, but sat down to eat anyway. "Ain't you eatin'?"

"I've got some here. You need more than me this mornin'." He began to protest, but she cut him off quickly. "We both know your day's gonna be a lot harder 'n mine. I'll take Sophia out for squirrel and rabbit later, anyway."

Understanding her logic, Daryl made short work of the eggs and rabbit on his plate. He watched Seraphim as he ate, enjoying the way her hair twisted and tangled over her back as she sat in her camp chair. She would braid and twist it up soon, as she always did at the start of her day, but she left it free and wild while they were in camp. He wondered what it would feel like trailing over his chest or thighs.

_Get your mind out of your pants and into the hunt, Dixon! _Daryl smirked to himself and went over his checklist one more time.

Merle's voice snickered in the back of him mind. _Hell, little bro. You could take care of the both of you and _then _go hunt._

"Please be careful," Sera's voice waivered just slightly as she interrupted his silent conversation. "I know this is what you do, but I don't want you to get lost or hurt."

"Ain't been lost since I was ten." He set his empty plate down and began to load the pockets of his pack with some jerky and water bottles. "I'll be fine."

"I know." Sera handed him his knives and patiently held his pack, crossbow, and quiver as she waited for him to get everything placed just right. "You're a Dixon."

She said it with the air of someone who knew that nothing and no one could kill a Dixon but a Dixon, and Daryl smirked. "Damn straight."

"I'm lookin' forward to some venison in the next few days." She didn't think it was necessary to tell him that she would worry. It wouldn't stop the men in her family from going out, and it sure as hell wouldn't stop Daryl. "But, if you don't bag it by tomorrow morning, you start makin' your way back home. Okay?"

Daryl nodded and took his crossbow and quiver from her. "Don't wanna be gone too long. I'll be back here no later than sunset tomorrow, so don't start with the worryin' about shit til then."

"Too late for that."

Daryl was suddenly at a loss, dropping his eyes to the ground. What was a man supposed to do when his woman was nervous about something he had done a thousand times? He raised his left hand to his lips, worrying the skin around his thumb with his teeth.

"Daryl, honey?" When he looked up, Sera slipped her arms around his waist and wiggled her hands under the various straps to lie against his shirt. "Just tell me everything is gonna be okay, that you'll be back soon, and that I've got nothin' to worry about."

"But you just said you're gonna worry anyway." His confusion was clear, and she took pity on him.

Sera shrugged and laid her head against his chest. "Sometimes, a girl just needs to hear her man tell her these things."

"This mean I'm your man?" From anyone else, the question would probably be teasing or ornery. From Daryl, however, it was a absolutely serious inquiry.

She drew her head back to look up at him from her spot under his arm. "Well, you called me your girl, right?"

"Yeah."

"And I'm not gonna be spendin' time with anyone else, right?"

Daryl growled low in his chest, vibrating her slightly. "Sure as hell better not be. Dixons don't share."

"Yeah, well, neither do O'Roarkes." She tilted her head invitingly to the right. "So, that means you're my man."

Daryl chewed his lip for a solid minute as he gathered his thoughts in order. "It's gonna be alright, you know. I'll only be gone for a bit, and you were prob'ly wantin' some time for yourself anyway. I've done this a thousand times and been fine."

He draped his arm around her shoulders and held her just a bit closer. "Nothin' to worry yourself over."

"See? Was that so hard?" Sera smiled brightly. "Now kiss me goodbye and go so you can get back alr-"

Daryl leaned forward and captured her lips.

It was easy for him to act as soon as he knew she wanted the same thing. He needed to know she was into that he was doing, but he required absolute control from that point on. He had spent too many years being controlled and terrorized to be able to let her have dominion over his body. His hands and mouth promised nothing but pleasure, and his will demanded that the beautiful woman in his arms allow it to happen.

Seraphim threw herself into Daryl's kisses, allowing him all the access he demanded and taking what pleasure she desired. Every slide of his tongue against hers sent a flood of need down her spine. His teeth nibbling over her lower lip set off a buzzing in every nerve ending on her body while the slide of his rough hands over her neck and hip harnessed that electricity and focused it into a coiled need low in her body.

The kiss ended far too soon for either of them, but Daryl knew he had to leave soon or miss the hunt and, possibly, the deer entirely. Sera's sigh tightened his throat and set off a flurry of nervous activity in his stomach. Daryl forced himself to take a step away from her, fingering a curl beside her face as she let out a slow breath and opened her eyes.

"Is this normal?" Sera's eyes had darkened to a glittering emerald.

Daryl snorted. "How th' hell should I know?"

"Well, Daryl Dixon," Sera leveled her most serious look at him. "I think you and I could really make a go of things, if you've a mind to try."

Daryl recognized Sera's words for the admission of feelings that they were, though he wasn't quite sure what to do with them. "You would want that? Why?"

"You don't see you the way I see you."

"The hell's that even mean?!" Daryl frowned and pulled away from her even farther, though his right hand still rested lightly on her hip.

"We'll figure it out." Sera decided that now wasn't the time to really talk about feelings or the future. Instead, she went up on her toes to kiss him lightly on the corner of his mouth. "Go bag us a deer already, and get home fast."

Daryl gave a coughing chuckle. "Yes ma'am."

O:O:O:O:O:O:

Sera braided and bound her hair and then cleaned up the breakfast dishes. Those finished, she looked over camp for anything she needed to do. There were a few pieces of trash and some sticks to gather up, but those took her no time at all. Soon, she admitted that there was nothing big with which to occupy her time and mind and decided to head down and see if Sophia wanted to go into the woods for a bit.

She was just exiting her tent with bow and quiver in hand when she caught sight of Dale and Rick cresting the hill. Deciding is was time to attempt to mend a few fences, Sera laid her equipment across Daryl's chair and moved to put a pot on the rack over the fire. "Mornin'. Tea?"

Both men returned her greeting and accepted the invitation. She offered them seats and busied herself with preparing the tea and retrieving the honey from her tent. All was quiet while they sipped their tea and Seraphim puffed on the first cigarette of the day.

Rick cleared his throat and leaned his elbows on his knees as he played with the tin mug. "We would like you to come back to camp. It's safer, and we need to stick together."

"Do you want us to be safe, or do you really want Daryl's hunting, and dealing with me seems easier than dealing with him?"

Rick nodded. "Of course we want everyone to be safe. I won't deny that Daryl's hunting has become important to us all."

"Maybe you should try telling him that, then." She added a bit more honey to her cup and stirred thoughtfully. "You know, instead of letting your wife and friend pick fights an-"

"That's not what happened." His voice remained level, though the tone was far from calm.

"Really? You were there?"

Rick shook his head. "Lori and Shane both stated they were approached in a hostile manor."

"Because they wouldn't lie in order to look better."

Rick smirked slightly. "They wouldn't feel that they had to."

Sera didn't miss the look of resignation that flashed across Rick's face. "I'm not stupid, and I'm not some sort of lower person because of my upbringing. I'm not trash because I grew up in the woods, Officer Grimes."

"Now, hold on!" Dale made a placating motion with his hands. "No one called anyone stupid, and no one said you were trash."

Sera motioned to Rick. "He came to what is - for now - my home and acted as if I were.

"I understand the tendency to see me as uneducated or uninformed because of my natural accent, my country knowledge, and the state of public education. However, I would like to inform you that not only was I Valedictorian of my high school class, but I received scholarships based on academics that allowed me to attend, and graduate from, Emory College in Atlanta. I am not an unintelligent person, and I greatly resent anyone treating me as such."

Rick was very obviously taken aback by her little speech and sat back in his chair. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Thank you." She arranged herself another cup of tea and waited for one of them to speak further.

Rick coughed and began again. "The other day, I was under a great amount of stress and reacted badly."

Sera smirked. "I would say so."

"I had just found out that Lori is pregnant, and her spat with you did not sit well. I see now that my decision was a bad one, and would like you and Daryl to consider coming back to camp."

"I can't speak for Daryl, he's tracking a deer and may be gone until tomorrow evening," Sera maintained her formalized speaking patterns as a way to enforce what she had said about being intelligent. "I will discuss the situation with him and see what he thinks. I can tell you that we like the peace and calm up here away from the noise and dramatics of camp."

Dale looked up worriedly. "If he's going to be gone for the night, you're more than welcome to sleep in the RV. I wouldn't like to think of you sleeping up here alone."

"I'll think about it." Sera collected the empty cups and banked the fire. "I'm going to take Sophia out hunting for a bit, and Carl is welcome to come if he wants."

"About Lori –"

"I don't feel right about fussin' with a pregnant lady." Sera shook her head ruefully. "But she started that whole mess knowing she's carryin' a little one. She shouldn't expect an apology from me any time soon. You have gotta know that."

"Yeah," Rick sighed. "I know."

Sera let the two men make their way back to camp while she organized her thoughts. Rick had extended the invitation to move closer to camp, so Daryl could see that as the deputy admitting that his people had been wrong. She wondered briefly if the hunter would see potential safety as outweighing his dislike for certain individuals.

Collecting Sophia and Carl, much to the displeasure of his mother, Sera made sure they were both armed and took them into the woods. Their morning was spent learning to set different snares and how to tell where to place them. Carl had a knack for tying them off and soon picked up on how to follow rabbit trails. Sophia preferred a more direct approach and took down six squirrels over the course of the morning, catching one directly in the eye.

Returning to the farm, Seraphim made a mental list of things to discuss with Daryl when he returned. There was the conversation about returning to the main camp to be had first. Then, Sophia's improved archery skills and Carl's aptitude for snares. Smiling and looking up to the clear blue sky, she sent out a silent prayer that her hunter's morning had gone as well as her own.

O:O:O:O:O:O:O:

Daryl's morning was spent jogging quietly through the trees and inhaling the warm, rich air of the woodland. He tracked the deer, a large one from the size and depth of the prints, through the now familiar area and then into unknown territory. He moved across first the highway and, about a mile later, a small country road. The land beyond the bumpy, pockmarked road became more hilly and treacherous, scattered here and there with small natural springs which muddied the hillside in patches.

Turning his body slightly sideways, Daryl slide-stepped his way down into a mostly empty creek bed. He followed the tracks along the edge of the muddy tract before climbing up on a flat rock to eat a meager lunch of a few pieces of jerky. Reaching into his small pack, he felt something wrapped in thin material that he didn't remember putting in.

Grasping the object and pulling, he recognized it as one of the shirt sleeves he had removed from the garment, but kept. It had been rolled up to protect something inside and placed carefully with his jerky. _What did that girl go and do now?_

There was a dinner roll, two protein bars, and some dehydrated apple slices in a double sealed plastic freezer bag. Daryl ate the roll after the jerky, deciding to save and apple and bars for later. There was an odd warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the height of the sun and everything to do with the pretty redhead who had thought about him out hunting, had known he wouldn't take more than he felt was absolutely necessary, and had snuck something special into his pack.

She was always thinking about others. About him. He loved that about her.

_What was that, baby brother? _Merle sauntered over to the rock. _You getting' full on bitch on me?_

"Shut up, Merle." Daryl repacked the apple and protein bars in their little plastic bag, slipping them in the pocket of his pants. He didn't want to lose them if something were to separate him and his backpack. Soon, he was once again walking along the creek, keeping the tracks in sight.

_Aw, c'mon Darylina. You can tell ol' Merle._

Daryl tucked the confusing thoughts about Sera into the back of his mind focused his whole being on the hunt. Now, more than ever, he wanted to bring something better than measly squirrel or a decent rabbit back to Seraphim. The deer had left the creek, making a hard right off into the woods where its tracks were joined by those belonging to a few smaller deer. That cemented the image of a large buck for Daryl, and he began scanning the trees for signs of antler rubbing.

A rustling in the brambles caught his attention, and he took a moment to check over his crossbow before shouldering the weapon and aiming down the sight. If he came around a tree and saw it, he wanted to be ready. Moving slowly, he rolled his feet to cushion his footfalls and cut down on sound and unnecessary shifting in the underbrush. He could tell the trees opened up at some point ahead, and readied his sensitive eyes for the increase in sunlight. Positioning his crossbow to be at about the right height for a deer heart, he stepped around the bush and into the open.

The clearing was full of walkers.

Most were standing quietly with only a few slowly limping about the grassy meadow. He had just enough time to glance to his right in an attempt to find a clear path before a gray, oozing hand wrapped around his left arm and a mouth full of rotting, fetid teeth came at his face. With a grunt of alarm, Daryl wrenched himself back and to the left. While this succeeded in knocking the walker loose, it had the side effect of drawing the attention of the others. A collected rumbling of moans and growls rose from the crowd, and they began shambling toward him in that now familiar, ungainly way.

Daryl fired a bolt into the closest putrid skull and rolled to his feet, knowing that it no longer mattered if he was quiet, and sprinted along the flat land. He needed to put some space between himself and those biters before he tried to hide or bothered to switch directions. The growls of the dead drowned out any other sound in the forest, and Daryl found himself straining to hear over the din behind him. He had no desire to find himself surrounded by the dead if it could be avoided by hearing them coming.

There was a steep hill to his left now, the leaves on the ground wet and muddy. He would slide and scramble in an attempt to reach the top. While that would also stymie the things that followed him, it may backfire by sending him sprawling to the bottom. No, that way most likely led to nothing but frustration and disaster, and Daryl instead threw himself into running faster. The ground curved naturally, and his strong legs moved him up and over the small hill with ease.

Suddenly, another sound came to his attention. He must have been hearing it for a few minutes, but his pulse thundering in his ears and the cries of the walkers behind him had detracted from the now evident roar of a waterfall. A quick turn of his head, and he was assured that the last small hill hid him from the walkers. Veering left, he jogged for nearly a quarter of a mile before drawing to a stop at the edge of a cliff.

He was nearly a hundred yards down the cliff from the source of the falling water, and preferring to stay where the water was slightly calmer. The large creek wound through the woods about 75 feet below the ledge on which he stood, the center a deep black. The sides would be rocky and perilous, but so was staying on the cliff any longer. He could hear the walkers getting closer, and knew they would be cresting the hill soon. Unwilling to wait for them to catch sight of him again, Daryl took a few steps back to give him momentum. A deep breath later, he sprinted forward, folded his arms around his bow, and leaped out into the humid summer air.

**The story about the skillet actually happened between my Mammaw and Pappaw. She gave cast iron skillets for bridal shower presents to all of the girls in my family up to her death last year. I inherited her old, personal set.**


	18. Through Hell and High Water

**ChooseJoy - Hope things get better. Here's something to help pass some time alone.**

**MollyMayhem84 - Thanks for the Pinch-betaing.**

**BakerTennant'sTardis - Not so much cuteness here, but some Badass Daryl.**

**ScornedxRose - Hope you like this one.**

**KaleiBurzz - Badass Daryl is hot Daryl. Also, we're getting closer ;)**

**Wolfihood - Thanks!**

**DeathWhistlingDixie - Welcome back, babe!**

Daryl squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath just before he hit the water. His feet entered, and he immediately somersaulted in order to not snap his ankles in the 60 foot depth. This put him at the mercy of the water's movement. His heels barely dragged over the loose silt before he turned and let his body float with the current as he looped the crossbow over his back, freeing up his arms. Ducking his head back under, he swam along with the easy pace of the creek in order to remain unseen by dead eyes.

Once he resurfaced, he mostly floated to save his energy and let his legs rest after the hard run of the afternoon. The water flowed over the red Georgia clay the way a good canoeing creek should, easy and free of unwanted detritus or boulders, and Daryl kept an eye out for docks or easy slopes. It wasn't until he was about a mile and a half from his entry point that he found just what he had been hoping for.

The land opposite the cliff face rose gradually, and a small two person canoe rested just up from the water's edge. A red tent could be seen peeking almost shyly over the rise of the hill. _With any luck, I can have that in the water and be gone before any walkers shuffle along. _

Pulling himself from the creek, Daryl stood for a moment and let the water run down his body and onto the slippery. He didn't have time to stand still, but he knew it was worth it to not have to haul the extra weight. He didn't relish the thought of walking in his now sodden boots, but he couldn't just take someone's only means of escape if they were still alive. Sighing, Daryl readied his bow and began the long trek up the incline to the stranger's camp.

The camp told a lonely and all too familiar tale. A chair was flipped on its side, an old fishing hat trampled nearby, and a fishing pole lay broken in the dirt. He could see through the open tent flap that the nylon structure stood empty in the stark afternoon light. When his soft calls went unanswered, he stepped carefully back down to the bank.

Turning back to the canoe, he swiftly untied it from a small tree. Placing his pack in the bottom to dry as he paddled, he slid the aluminum craft into the water. His last sight of the tent was of what used to be a teenage boy dragging his useless right leg behind him into the clearing.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

By mid afternoon, Seraphim was just plain bored. She had finished spinning her pack of wool while sitting in the shade made by her tent's overhang, and dinner was bubbling away in her pot. Her knives were sharper than they had ever been. Her compound bow had been thoroughly looked over and basic maintenance preformed. There was nothing else to clean.

Remembering that Sophia had taken the rest of the squirrel down to Carol (who had been suitably impressed) and that Sera had promised Carl that they would check the snares after lunch, she put her things away and went to collect the boy for their short jaunt into the forest. As Sera came down the hill, she saw that he and Sophia were joking around as they walked in her direction. Carl easily danced out of the way of a playful jab aimed at his shoulder, making the little blond giggle.

"You ready to check the snares?" Sera smiled at the two, loving Carl's light blush and Sophia's soft smile.

He nodded quickly, the large hat wobbling slightly on his head. "Yeah, we were just coming to get you."

They were just walking past the first trees when a wave of unease washed over Sera, dragging her feet to a halt. Fearing she had subconsciously picked up on the presence of a nearby walker, she held up a closed fist and stopped. Her two young companions came to stand at her side and looked around.

"What's wrong?" Sophia's voice was quiet and alert, her eyes darting around their group. She surveyed both the ground and at head height.

Sera shook her head quickly, dispelling the feeling that something was wrong with Daryl. "Nothing. It's nothing."

She let the kids walk in front of her by a few feet, smiling at the way Carl would let his hand swing loosely at his side, Sophia's occasionally brushing his knuckles. She enjoyed watching Carl and Sophia play out the age-old games of childhood attraction. She had no way of knowing if anything would come of it, but the little flirts and smiles were fun to observe.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

Night was coming fast, and Daryl knew better than to stay on the water with only the light of a quarter moon to guide him. If the water became uneasy or a rock jutted up, he wouldn't be able to see it or steer well in that half light. There was a slight opening in the creek's bank coming on the left, and he steered the craft to come in close. Jumping out, he moved as quickly as he could, pulling the boat onto the clay and tying it to a tree. He would have to find a tree to rest in for the night, and was glad he always made sure to pack a decent length of rope, though he usually had no idea what use it would be. He'd tie himself to the trunk to allow for some sleep.

Finding a decently sized oak, Daryl quickly scaled its trunk and pulled himself from branch to branch until he was confident that passing walkers would not see or smell him. He quickly secured the pack and his crossbow to the limb on which he rested, smiling when he saw that the Horton had managed to remain undamaged, though he had lost all but five bolts over the course of the afternoon. It was going to be long night.

The next morning dawned bright and humid. His stomach aching, Daryl reached into his pocket for the sealed bag Sera had packed. The first protein bar was eaten in three bites, and he forced himself to drink a bit of water. He had to let his body get used to the food, or it would just come back up. It wouldn't help anything to get sick now.

A folded piece of paper caught his attention when he reached for the second bar. Not having noticed it the day before, Daryl scowled. After a cursory glance, he was able to see that the paper was about the size of his palm, torn from an end page of one of Sera's books.

_Daryl__, _the handwriting was cursive and more loopy than his own; _I hope your hunt is going well. Just a quick note to say I'll miss you. Hurry home to me._

There, at the end of the hastily written words and slightly above her signature, was a heart.

He wasn't sure what it meant, really, but he knew he enjoyed the feeling of warmth that had taken up real estate in his chest. It was the same one that had been there the afternoon before when he discovered the little bag of food. He liked it, even if it scared him a bit, and made him want to never return to the farm and to move into her tent all at the same time.

_Well, well, little brother. _Merle eased himself onto the branch to Daryl's left. _Looks like the girl wants to keep ya._

"Girls put hearts on everything." Daryl folded the paper up and put it back in the bag, removing the apple slices. It wouldn't be right for the note to get ruined by the water. "You know that."

_Nah, little girls put that shit on everythin'. _Merle chuckled. _Think they grow out of that some'ere around high school or some such shit._

Daryl was quiet as he finished his apples and replaced the note and last bar in his pocket. Reaching into his other cargo pocket for a bottle of water, his fingers grazed another plastic bag. When he pulled it from the confines of his pants, he choked back a laugh. There was a nearly full pack of smokes and a lighter double wrapped, as if she had taken more care of the tobacco than she had food.

"When the hell. . . ?"

Merle's voice gave his usual gravely chuckle. _Looks like you've got somethin' there, Darylina. She's not bad. Not bad at all._

Daryl knew that he wasn't really speaking to his brother. It was just his mind telling him what he needed to figure out. That heart on the note and the conversation he had had with Sera the morning before told him she wanted to be with him, even if he didn't understand why the hell she would. She had managed to let him know, in the course of twenty four hours, that she was all in. He just didn't know if he could say the same about himself.

What he **did **know, however, was that he didn't like being away from her. The thought of her so far away from the others at night suddenly didn't sit very well with him, and he wished he hadn't decided they needed a deer. Had she spent the night cold? Had there been another spider in her tent? If there was, did she think to just go into his, or would she not want to take his personal space?

Daryl felt a low growl work its way, unbidden, from his chest. _Would __**Walsh **__have offered to help her out or keep her warm?_

Merle's quiet chuckle whispered on the breeze as Daryl lit his first cigarette of the day and began to untie his pack and bow. _I think you just told yourself where you stand,brol. Now, you just have to get back to her in one piece._

Daryl nodded and readied himself for a hard day of hiking. He would have to have all his wits about him to do what needed to be done. A few miles of water, woods, and walkers was not going to keep him from his girl.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

Sera stepped out of the RV as soon as the world began to lighten with the first hint of dawn. While she had felt safer sleeping in the camper, she was not a fan of the close quarters with people she did not know well. Andrea had a habit of mumbling in her sleep, and Sera had been forced to listen to the blond hold conversations with both her dead sister and Officer Walsh. Dale would snort and snore before getting up to go to the bathroom every half hour. It was a wonder that man could ever be in a good mood with the amount of sleep he managed to get.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Sera gave a slow, deep stretch and began going over her mental list of things to do that day. First, she had to hunt with Sophia and Carl. Then, she would like to take them looking for usable plants. After that, she needed to get the fire going at Camp Exile. She wanted to have it going well before Daryl would return. Also, she needed to do some general cleaning and wash herself up as well. Just because she didn't have access to a hot, running shower, didn't mean that she couldn't at least make herself passably clean for her. . . Daryl. Ascertain

Having reached Camp Exile, she took a quiet moment to be worried about the note she left him with the surprise food. It felt like a copout to simply sign a heart to a note in order to ascertain his feelings and desires. However, Sera felt that she needed to know where he stood on the subject, and he seemed reluctant to discuss the very existence of an emotional bond between the two of them. She had determined that remaining quiet on the subject until she had a firm concept of where he stood was the better part of valor, when in fact she wanted to tell every person on the farm that she was absolutely and unapologetically in love with Daryl Dixon.

While they hadn't known each other for an extensive amount of time, and she knew some would think that they hadn't gone steady long enough, Sera knew her own mind. She also knew the important things about him. He was usually quiet until he had cause to be otherwise. He was sweet and kind to both her and the children, though he tried not to let any of them see it. There was a sadness to his perceptive blue eyes that she longed to erase. All of these factors combined with his powerful physical presence to form a man Sera had been in search of for years.

She blushed lightly at the thought and tied her gathering apron around her waist, pulling the lower corners up to make a pocket. Her garden scissors, gloves, and root puller were added, and she wrapped a bandanna around her head and hair. Looping her quiver across her back and grasping her bow, she set off to meet Sophia and start her day.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

Daryl's canoe glided through the water with ease, the rippling of the water along the small stones of the brook tickling a sweet song of serenity through the countryside. The only other sounds were the wind through the trees and the rhythmic _glonk-shhhhhhh _of his paddle. He lit his second cigarette and replaced the pack and lighter in their bags, deciding to add the note and protein bar to the same double bagged system. It all went into the same pocket and buttoned closed. As he straightened in his seat, the boat gave a slight jostle, as if it had bounced slightly over a rock resting near the surface.

Before Daryl could correct his path and move more to the center of the waterway a gray, peeling, bloated hand grasped the edge of the boat. With a sharp tug, the small craft was pulled toward the walker and plunged half under so that it held water and tangled his pack around legs that were already moving. Ripping the pack free, he threw it in the walker's flailing arms. Jerking himself to his feet, Daryl lurched along the seats until he could dive into the chilly water.

He was just resurfacing, pulling himself up onto the bank when his left leg was ripped out from under him, his face splashing into the slowly thickening morass of clay, mud, and weeds. Kicking back with his right boot, he clipped the walker hard in the jaw. When the hand loosened, he gained his feet and pulled himself to shore. Yanking the knife at his waist free, he whipped around and planted the blade deep in the thing's skull.

The snapping of a twig brought his attention to the three walkers moving onto the shoreline. Planting his foot on the first walker's chest, he ripped the knife free and turned to face the new threats. Pulling the crossbow from around his shoulder, he quickly loaded a bolt and fired into the eye of the closest walker. The second fell with the blade to the temple.

The third was more difficult. She was a large woman, her light purple Sunday dress ripped and full of holes. Her left shoe was missing, though her right slid along the grass. She was on Daryl before he could stand from removing the blade from the last walker, curling both hands around his right arm and pulling him toward her snapping jaws. Twisting himself to the left, he donkey kicked the woman in the chest and forehead, pushing her away and giving him enough time to roll to his feet, his left ankle giving a slight pop.

She barreled into him, the frenzy to feed fully raging within her, and he was just able to force his forearm across her throat before his back hit the ground. Her flesh was a mottled green, bits of soggy tissues ripped off on his bare arm, leaving an oil slick of rotting tissue and blood behind. The smell made him retch, though he refused to give in to the temptation to open his mouth with hers hovering so closely overhead.

In desperation, he began grasping at the ground with his left hand. Feeling a stick that felt solid enough, he put all his effort behind pushing her face away from his. Turning his head to the side, he shoved the stick into her eye. Daryl felt the lukewarm spray of blood, eyeball, and brain matter against his neck and chest a moment before her entire weight sagged against him. Heaving and gagging, he managed to shove her off before her rolled to the side and fought to keep his meager breakfast from making a reappearance.

The bolt and blade made soft squelching sounds as he slid them out of the walkers' skulls. Daryl's grin was fierce with adrenaline and pride.

"You can't kill me, you dead fuckers." He stopped to clean the worst of the grime from his tools. "Nothin' kills a Dixon but a motherfuckin' **Dixon**, you pieces of shit!"

His pack gone down the river, and the only food left being Sera's last fruit and protein bar, Daryl made a decision. He would follow along beside the creek. It was large enough that it would, eventually, be crossed by a bridge or run into a larger body. From there, he should be able to get his bearings. After that, it would just be a matter of finding his way back to the highway and then the farm.

In an attempt to save energy, he looped the crossbow over his shoulder and withdrew a second hunting knife from the holster around his thigh. Both hands now carrying a lethal blade, Daryl began a steady, sustainable jog through the trees, wincing slightly each time his left foot made landfall. The sun said it was noon, but he wouldn't stop to eat until he had a heading.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

It was nearly five hours later that Daryl limped to clamor up a hill beside the stream and found himself, quite suddenly, on a road. The gravel must have been sparse before the dead began walking, and the dirt was now deeply rutted. A narrow concrete and stone bridge spanned the creek. Slowing to take in his surroundings fully, Daryl knew that crossing the bridge meant moving through the same area that the herd had occupied only the day before. However, there was no other way that he could see other than moving even further away from the farm. Even if he **did **move on to the next eventual crossing, there was no telling if that herd had moved further up, in which case he would only succeed in making himself more tired before facing them and giving him a longer run to the farm afterward. His left leg had been aching since the fight at the creek. As it was now giving a consistent and sharp throb, he knew it was at least sprained.

Hoping the walkers were anywhere other than between him and Seraphim, Daryl jogged over the old arch and then followed the road for nearly an hour. Coming upon an intersection of the dirt road and a paved country lane, Daryl was startled to realize that he knew exactly where he was. If he followed the dirt road he was on, he would eventually come upon the cabin Sera and Sophia had been using when he found them. That meant the farm was nearly straight through the forest in front of the place in which he stood.

A chuckle became a choked sob of relief. He took the opportunity of a clear line of sight to lean his bow against a large rock so that he could rest and eat the last of Sera's gift. Staring at the little heart above her name, Daryl knew.

He wasn't letting her get away, his shitty family life be damned. She had said he was already hers, and had agreed to be his own. Anything else could be dealt with. _That woman ain't leavin' my side from here on out, and I'll eviscerate any sonovabitch that says otherwise._

_Hell, baby brother, _Merle stood beside him again, resting his hip against the trunk of a tree and cleaning his nails with the point of his favorite knife. _If you'd stop pissin' around out here, worryin' about your poor widdle __**feelin's**__, you could be back at that farm lovin' on yer girl by nightfall!_

Agreeing that it was time to move, Daryl bent to retrieve his crossbow.

The glint of something silver caught his eye, and he frowned at the absurdity of a dainty little teaspoon being on such a back country road during an apocalypse. Snorting, he almost ignored it entirely. That is, until a small detail registered. There, at the head of the stem, surrounded by a complicated entwining of vines and leaves, was an intricately engraved letter "D" in Old English script.

Daryl's mind flashed nearly twenty years into the past to a pair of hands, weathered by time, twisted by years of hard work, but full of love. His grandma's wedding ring had been fashioned from the stem of a teaspoon back during the Great Depression. She had worn it with all the pride of a woman with a 10 karat diamond, even refusing to replace it with something more expensive whenever his grandfather had the money.

As far as signs went, this blew finding those Cherokee roses out of the water.

Dropping the spoon into his pocket and picking up his crossbow, Daryl limped into the woods.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

Sera began playing around with the spun yarn at about noon. By six, she was nearly finished with a pretty hat for Sophia. It began as a simple two by two rib, just something she could do to occupy her hands. Then she added cables alternated with lace panels. Now, it had earflaps. If Daryl didn't come back in the next half hour, it would also sport cords and little puffballs. She had long since begun pacing slowly back and forth from the pump to her camp and back, humming or singing little songs to herself.

Daryl may have said before nightfall, but her gut was telling her something was wrong. She couldn't go looking for him, however, without sending the clear message that she either did not trust his word, or thought his tracking and sense of direction were subpar. While she believed just the opposite, she was willing to bet that Daryl would see it as some sort of commentary on his manhood. Sera began knitting an I-cord to serve as a hat tie as she made another circuit in her pacing; mentally listing off all the things she would need to pack to facilitate a night search for her lost hunter. Because she both trusted Daryl's word and had absolute confidence in his woodsman abilities. Those two things combined to mean that, if he wasn't standing in front of her by the time the light began to leach from the countryside, there was something drastically wrong.

Wistfully, she began to sing an old Southern song.

"In the gloaming, oh my darling  
When the lights are soft and low  
And the quiet shadows, falling,  
Softly come and softly go  
When the trees are sobbing faintly  
With a gentle unknown woe  
Will you think of me and love me,  
As you did once, long ago  
In the gloaming, oh my darling  
Think not bitterly of me  
Though I passed away in silence  
Left you lonely, set you free  
For my heart was tossed with longing  
What had been could never be  
It was best to leave you thus, dear,  
Best for you, and best for me  
In the gloaming, oh my darling  
When the lights are soft and low  
Will you think of me, and love me  
As you did once long ago."

Having finished the first I-cord, Sera returned to her tent to prepare to go out after Daryl. Quickly changing out of her shorts and tank top, she pulled on a pair of worn cargo pants and a t-shirt. Her belt with its holsters for Daryl's knife and her Berettas went on first, the weapons feeling like old friends. He ankle sheath followed, and then her worn in boots. Some basic first aid supplies, a flashlight, and some food were added to her pockets. A quick dip into Daryl's tent added a soft flannel shirt, the sleeves of which she cuffed before stuffing her hair down the back. Flinging her bow across her shoulders, she secured the quiver to her hip so that her pistol could still be drawn quickly. Now, she only needed to fill her canteens.

That task complete, she moved through the blinding evening sun to find Carol or Glenn. While she did not care for some of the group's members, she didn't want to worry either the mother or the young Korean. She was nearly to the fire when Sophia called out to her, gaining the attention of the others.

"Where are you going?" Sophia's question had every head turning in their direction.

Sera shrugged and adjusted her weapons. "Daryl said he'd be back by nightfall. If he ain't back by then, I'm goin' out after him."

"Daryl can take care of himself, I think." Dale's voice was calm, but his eyes flickered with a quiet fear for the younger man.

"I know." Sera pulled on her archery gloves, all smooth leather and textured grips. "That's what's got me worried."

Rick stepped up beside Dale, his eyebrows drawn in genuine worry. "You shouldn't go out at night."

"If he isn't back by dark, ain't no one here stoppin' me." Sera began stretching her arms and shoulders.

"Well," Carol's voice interrupted the combatants. "Nightfall isn't for a while yet. Why don't you join us for dinner?"

"Nah, got m' own, thanks." Sera jerked her head in the direction of her tent. "I'll be up there till night comes on. After that, I'm out."

"You'll put us all in danger." Shane's accusation was the hiss of a copperhead, and Sera turned to regard him with loathsome contempt.

"No more than your repeated trips for target practice." Not waiting for an answer, she turned to jog back up the hill. She needed to eat in order to cover as much ground as possible.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

Daryl made good time until he came to the spot in the woods where Rick had originally left Sophia in order to draw off the two walkers following her. There were now four walkers slowly navigating the shallow water while another one stood stock still in shin deep mud.

In an effort to avoid the mud and as many of the geeks as possible, he attempted to move around the scene entirely. The throbbing left ankle, however, had other ideas. With a final scream of walking-on-glass pain, the ankle simply refused to hold his weight. He nearly choked on the repressed shout of pain, and found himself gasping for breath beside a tall, leafy oak. There was a rustle and a soft moan from the other side of his tree, and Daryl drew back as slowly and carefully as possible while using smaller trees to bear the brunt of his weight.

The former man that came around the tree made Daryl smirk despite the direness of the situation. There was a familiar badge still attached to the man's lapel with his name and official title printed under an insignia of the state's official seal and "Child Protective Services". Balancing most of his weight on his right foot, Daryl readied his throwing hand.

"Always wanted to shove something down the throat of one of you assholes." Daryl chuckled softly and let the blade fly, sinking it deep in the walker's right eye. "That'll do."

Two more walkers made their way from the shallow pool, and Daryl managed to put a bolt through the eye of the nearest walker before limping forward. He spun his longest knife in hand so that the wicked point was towards the sky. As the biter opened his mouth on a long, low moan, he came forward, and Daryl rammed the blade through the bottom of its jaw and up through the brain.

Daryl retrieved both his blade and crossbow bolt, using it to reload his Horton. When he stepped around his latest kills to face the three remaining occupants of the small stream pool, his ankle rolled. He went down hard, unable to get his hands in front of him in time, and smacked his mouth against some of the rocks on the bank, tasting blood instantly. The excited growls of the two remaining walkers told him they smelled the blood as well.

Twisting where he lay, he turned the crossbow at an awkward angle in order to score the direct shot to the spot to the space right between its eyeballs. The almost man standing in the mud was dealt with in the same fashion. Daryl spit out a few mouthfuls of blood and one tooth as he hobbled to recover his weapons.

Turning his back to the slowly setting sun, Daryl started for the farm.

O:O:O:O:O:

Sera heard shouting from the main camp as she nervously ate and paced, her bow and quiver sitting beside her forgotten chair. Dale was pointing across the field to the edge of the woods. Andrea was saying something from the top of the Winnebago. Rick and Shane were running across the open field toward the limping, bleeding figure of. . .

"Daryl," she breathed into the bright sunset. Her bowl tumbled from numb fingers as she began to run across the grass.

She could see him speak to Rick, smiling as the deputy managed to look both agitated and relived at his words. Her greeting froze on her lips when a shot rang out and Daryl whipped half around and fell, unmoving, to the ground.

**The song "In The Gloaming" is just beautiful when you can hear it. Please look it up.**


	19. A Decent Proposal

**Here's a long one. Also, what a lot of people have been waiting for. Please review!**

Sera's scream echoed over the camp and bounced back from the quaint, white house before her world went silent. The shouts of the others, Rick's orders, and Dale's inquiries fell on deaf ears. She slid to Daryl's side, batting Rick and Shane's reaching hands away and feeling his neck frantically for a pulse. She sighed when a slow, steady beat met her questing fingers, tears dropping from her eyes like fat summer rain.

"I was **jokin'**!" Daryl's rumbling southern drawl was the first sound that filtered through the shock. His eyes slowly blinked open and focused on Sera's tearful expression. "Why're ya cryin'?"

Sera gave a watery chuckle as Rick and Shane helped the man to his feet and began hoisting him to the house. "Because I thought you were dead!"

"Naw, I ain't dyin' on ya." Daryl let his head drop forward on his shoulders and looked at her from under dark lashes. "What? You givin' up just 'cause I was delayed a little while?"

Sera understood the _Princess Bride _reference, smiling at him for making the effort as they moved to the house. Glenn had run to alert Hershel to the situation, and he was standing on the porch watching their progress. The rest of the group had gathered along their path, attempting to calm their own fears by seeing that Daryl was indeed alive. Andrea's face stood out as she pleaded for information from the former deputies.

"I'm so sorry!" The blonde was breathing heavily with her panic. "The sun was in my eyes. Is he okay?!"

Before Rick could answer, Sera ducked around the men. Her fist swung around in a powerful right hook, fueled by throwing all her weight forward from her hip to shoulder. She caught Andrea just in from of her jaw, cranking her face to the side. The woman's head whipped around so hard her body followed its half turn momentum and she sprawled, dazed, on the grass.

Moving quickly, Sera stood over the astonished older woman – one foot on either side of her hips – and pointed down into her face. "Don' git up. Keep yer ass down there 'til Ah'm in that house, or I will **put** it back down."

"If ya cain't see what the hell yer shootin' at, ya don' take the fuckin' shot! Any nine year old with a **damned .22** knows that much." Turning to walk up the steps in front of the men, Sera shook her hand and scowled. "Stupid bitch."

Daryl gave a wheezing chuckle and managed a small, cocky smile at the crowd. "That's my girl."

Muscling the stocky hunter into the now familiar front room bed, Rick sighed. "That was quite an entrance."

Hershel somehow managed to sound both exasperated and amused. "Can't say I was expecting to have to patch you up again so soon."

"Yeah, well, no one expects the Spanish Inquisition." Seraphim paced at the end of the bed before stepping over to slam the door behind Shane's retreating back and in the faces of most of the group.

Seeing the three men and Patricia looking at her oddly, Sera shrugged. "Monty Python."

Hershel chuckled and then turned to his most regular patient. "What did you do to yourself this time, son?"

"Twisted my ankle a few miles back. Fell and knocked out a tooth around where Rick and Sophia got separated. Got shot." A reluctant grin threatened to spread across his lips. "It's been a long day."

"I should say so," the older man chuckled lightly and tucked a roll of padding in the space left by Daryl's now missing tooth in the side of his mouth. "I can't say that I envy you the jaw pain you're going to have from that tooth."

"Would clove paste help?" Sera looked up from her spot on the side of the bed.

"Well, yes. But we don't have any." It wasn't as if they could just pop over to see the town dentist, after all.

Sera gave a little smile. "I do."

"Where in the world did you get that?"

Sera moved to stand. "I camped out in a dentist's office for two days back when I first left my brothers. Had to hole up for a bit so I could avoid running into some men I didn't like the looks of."

"But you helped us." Rick made it a question as he looked at her, clearly puzzled.

"I trust my instincts in situations like that." Sera shrugged. "Ya'll looked scared, a bit desperate, and maybe a bit dangerous to the right kind of person. The men I was hidin' from? They looked like every warning about being careful of men my momma ever gave me."

Daryl growled low in his throat at the mental image. He hadn't given her time alone between leaving her brothers and joining up with them on the farm much of thought before that moment. There must have been many times when she could have used some help or had been in danger from both walkers and humans alike.

_A woman alone in a world like this is bad enough. A woman that looks like she ought to be in magazines? That's down right askin' for problems._

Oblivious to Daryl's silent realizations, Sera smiled at him and wrinkled her nose. "I'll run up to Camp Exile and grab that while I get you some clean clothes. You kinda reek."

"Camp Exile?" Rick's question was answered by the shutting of the door, so he looked to Daryl.

"That's what she calls our little slice." Daryl grunted at Hershel's ministrations.

From where he stood, Rick watched Seraphim walk across the yard. Andrea came at her in a fast stride, and Rick tensed at the apparent impending confrontation. Before the blonde could get too close, and without breaking stride or even turning her head, Sera drew a large hunting knife from her waist and pointed it at her. The older woman quickly stopped and went back to her place beside Dale.

"We'll have to do something about her and Andrea."

"Blondie just needs to stay away from her for a bit 'til she settles down." Daryl snorted. "You thinkin' we'll come back now?"

"Already talked to Seraphim, though she said no decisions were being made without you." Rick cleared his throat, but met Daryl's gaze unwaveringly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tried to put blame on the two of you in order to make peace elsewhere."

Daryl nodded. It was good that the man finally realized he needed to really apologize. Daryl wasn't naïve enough to thing that Lori or Walsh would do the same.

"We'll talk about it."

Sera returned then, carrying a blue bag with a dancing tooth and toothbrush emblazoned on the side along with a pile of clothes. She sew everything down on the bed and went through the bag's contents before digging out the clove paste and a box contained 50 small packets. Reading the directions, she moved into the attached bathroom to mix the powdered contents of one foil pouch with warm water.

"Here," she leaned over the bed to hand the small cup to Daryl. "Give me the used gauze, and then rinse with this."

Daryl did as she said, scowling darkly at the chemical grape taste. The dull throb in his jaw immediately eased, and he spit the water, now tinged pink with his blood, back into the cup. Once Sera took the cup back to the bathroom, she returned to hand him a small jar of thick, brown paste that smelled strongly of spices. He placed a small glob into the hole in his gum. With a nod to Hershel, Daryl prepared to sit still while the vet sewed him closed.

"You can stay in here tonight." Hershel's voice was slightly distracted as he worked. "You should shower and eat, too."

Rick looked away from where he had been studying the graze wound. "Have you had anything to eat since yesterday?"

"Yeah," Daryl darted his eyes to Sera's face. "Sera packed me something."

"That's good," Hershel finished his work with the needle and wiped the area clean. "That ankle of yours needs to be wrapped and elevated after your shower. Do you need me to do it?"

Sera's voice floated out from the bathroom where she was now organizing the clothes she had grabbed from his tent. "I've got it, Mr. Hershel."

With a nod to Daryl and a few instructions to Sera on how to wrap his ankle, Hershel took his leave.

"I'm glad you made it back. Sera was about to go out looking for you." Rick looked between the two of them. "Please think about coming back down to camp."

"Told ya we'll talk about it." Daryl's brows had lowered with Rick's mention of Sera leaving the farm, and he tracked her movements around the room moodily.

Rick, sensing the sudden disquiet in the room, said his goodbyes and left.

"Did you want a shower or bath?" Sera got a few towels ready while she tried to ignore Daryl's obvious anger. "Shower's quicker, but a bath would be easier on your ankle."

"The hell did he mean about you comin' to look fer me?" His gruff voice, for once, did not send sparks of electricity dancing along her shoulders and spine. "Told you I'd be back."

Sera sighed and came to sit beside his hip on the bed. "You said by nightfall. Was gonna give you 'til then."

At his displeased hum, she smiled softly. "We both know that, if you weren't back by the time you told me, something had to be very wrong."

"Could've run into people who aren't as decent as this lot. Could've been turned and came after you."

"Then I would've either gotten you out on my own or come back for help." Sera shook her head slightly. "You should know that I would've taken care of you if you were turned."

Daryl nodded. That's what he would want her to do. "I'll go with a shower. Need to eat more than anything."

"If you're okay to get in the tub on your own, I'll go ahead and bring you some stew I made for dinner."

Daryl gave his usual snort of amusement and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Made it off a cliff, down a river, through walkers and back to here. I can make it to the damned shower."

Sera silently reminded herself that, no matter what he had gone through, he **had **made it back to her as she waited a full minute after she heard the shower start before she began her preparations. She stripped the bed of the dirty sheets and remade it with the clean bedding stacked in the corner. The trip up to her tent took a little more time, but she managed to remember all the supplies she would need. She banked the fire and brought her bow and quiver with her as she brought the rest of the stew down to the house. She placed it on the stove and bypassed the regular bowls in favor of a serving bowl, ladling enough stew in for three people.

When she carried the tray into the bedroom, Daryl was just limping in. While her first instinct was to help him to the bed, she resisted. Instead, she sat the tray on the table and hurried to turn down the duvet and sheets and then moved out of his way. Once he was resting against the pillows, she placed to tray over his thighs.

He grinned up at her. "Big enough bowl?"

"Oh, just hush and eat." Sera didn't feel it was necessary to explain both her need for him to eat and the strange desire to not let him out of her sight long enough to fill his bowl a second or third time.

She wrapped his ankle quickly while he started in on the meat and potatoes flavored with wild carrots and onions. He made little sounds of appreciation as he decimated the contents of the bowl, and Sera smiled softly as she placed the two extra pillows under his foot. It felt good to know he was enjoying something after such a hard time.

Daryl cleared his throat, painfully aware that they were alone with access to an extremely comfortable bed. "This is good."

"Thank you," Sera sank down into the straight backed chair by the window. "When you're done, I'll take that into the kitchen before I go."

Blue eyes were suddenly boring into her from under shaggy bangs. "Where?"

"Back to my tent. . . ?"

"The hell you are!" His spoon clattered against the bottom of his empty bowl. "Yer stayin' right the hell here."

"Dar-"

"Shouldn't 've left you to be alone last night."

"But I wasn't alone, I-"

Daryl head snapped up in surprised anger. "Did Walsh try somethin'? 'Cause I'll make him eat his own hands if he touches ya'."

Sera smiled softly and shook her head. "I didn't like not havin' you close, so I stayed in the RV. Walsh hasn't looked at me since your fight the other day."

"Damn right," Daryl set the tray over on the nightstand. "Get in bed, woman."

Giggling, Sera unlaced and removed her boots before placing her weapons on the nightstand, her bow lying on the table with the quiver. She glanced at Daryl before she removed the flannel shirt, her pants, and then the socks. Daryl's eyes widened as they slid over the long, smooth skin of her legs. There were flashes of ink as her feet and ankles sank under the blankets.

"You stealin' my shirts now?"

Sera chuckled. "I needed something on my arms if I was going out last night."

"Uh huh," Daryl didn't sound convinced. "Knew all that help with laundry was a lie."

Sera laughed the wild, free laugh Daryl secretly loved and placed an arm behind her head and sighed appreciatively. "This is lovely."

"Where're your pillows?"

Sera yawned heavily and pointed her toes to stretch. "Under your leg."

Daryl rolled his eyes in annoyance, though it was flavored with affection and warmth. "No point tryin' to make me comfortable and hurtin' yourself."

"But I'm not –," a soft sound of pain interrupted her protest and had her sitting up and reaching for the light. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothin'," he grunted.

Sera rolled her eyes in the way that women have since the dawn of time at the stupidity and stubbornness of men in general and their own in particular. "Doesn't sound like nothing."

"Just aches and pains from bein' out there." Daryl moved to reach the pillows, but Sera had sat up and was pushing him back to lay down. "What the hell?"

"Calm down, babe." Sera sat back on her heels, unknowingly giving Daryl a wonderful view of her chest in the tank top and her bare legs. "Now is it your back or legs?"

"Legs," Daryl's answer was a little distracted, as he was currently sliding his eyes over her toned thighs.

Without another word, Sera simply switched off the light and rolled out of bed. She stood at the end of the bed, flipped the corner of the blanket and top sheets out of her way, and grasped his right foot. When he tried to pull away, she merely held tight and made a shushing sound. Then, with smooth, sure pressure, she began working the stiffness from the abused muscles, returning much needed blood flow and drawing a reluctant groan from his chest.

Daryl felt his head drop back without conscious thought, the pleasure of someone kneading long misused tissues into submission was a new and unexpectedly simple kind of ecstasy. Sera's nimble fingers worked out the multiple knots and sore spots in his right foot and ankle with ease and precision. She stopped and giggled as his momentary growl of protest turned into another groan of enjoyment as she started in on his left foot, taking care not to aggravate his injured ankle.

Somewhere between Sera switching feet and her fingers working their way up first his left leg and then his right, Daryl's mind slowly stopped functioning at maximum capacity. She used her whole hand, from fingertips and knuckles to heel and side, to slowly draw the horror of the last two days out of his body and replace it with a unique kind of peace. When she began kneading his thighs, he felt himself responding by growing slightly hard and hoped she wouldn't notice.

The pale moonlight and the bagginess of his pants all but hid his predicament from her eyes, and Sera's first indication that she was treading into as yet unknown territory was the way Daryl began to tense slightly under her massaging hands. She caught the movement of his erection kicking against the front of his pants before she could ask what was wrong, however, and understood immediately. When he didn't make any comment or try to guide her to him, she knew he was either too tired or just not willing to take their physical relationship further yet. Without mentioning his current situation, Sera picked up Daryl's left hand and began rubbing the aches and knots out of his arms.

No one had ever touched Daryl with such sure movements and soft intentions. Sera neither demanded he speak to her nor derided him for his growing member. In fact, she began humming a sad, quiet tune as she worked his arms until they were soft and nearly unable to move.

When she finished rubbing the tension from his right shoulder, Sera once again sat back on her heels. "Is that any better?"

"Yeah," Daryl had to clear his throat twice before he could force the word out. "Take one of your pillows. I'm good."

"Nah, we both know you'll be able to sleep better with both of them. I'm just happy with a bed."

Daryl was quiet for a few moments, letting the sounds of the night seep through the room. Something tickled at the back of his mind, something he had wanted to do since he decided he would make it back to the farm before nightfall. He had, of course, pictured his entrance as being slightly more heroic than the reality had been. Grand or otherwise, however, he had imagined that Sera would want to welcome him back with at least a little kiss, when no one else was around to stare at them and make him uncomfortable.

"Catchfly?" The thinly veiled uncertainty in his voice bothered him, but got her attention.

"Yeah?"

Daryl couldn't stand to look her in the eye and focused instead on the shadows playing over the ceiling. "Could I. . . I mean, would you…?"

Sera studied the side of his face, trying to decipher what it was he needed. _He never mumbles or hesitates unless he wants. . . Oh!_

Turning over, Sera slid the short distance between them. Her hand on his cheek, she urged him to turn his head and look at her. When he did, she smiled softly and lowered her mouth to his in a welcome home kiss that Daryl knew he would remember every time he had to leave.

"I'm glad you made it home."

Daryl brought his head up off the pillows, stealing her breath and obscuring her words as his lips connected with hers. Her easy acceptance and soft moan sent a surge of confidence through him, and he softly brought his hands up the rest along her sides. Very little pressure had her resting her entire weight along his right side, and his hand squeezed at her hip before sliding along the skin at the base of her spine. Her little breathless gasp had him thinking one thing: to get her good and naked and underneath him in that big, comfy bed.

The sharp pain in his ankle when he planted his foot drew him up short with a curse. "Fuckin' ankle."

Sera gave a breathless giggle and drew away from his chest to look him in the eye. "You really aren't well enough for all that."

"Just need to make some adjustments is all." Daryl was far from being ready to admit defeat. Sera was warm and willing, he knew he would not be rejected or put down, and his body strained for her.

"Lay back."

"Huh?"

Sera pushed him further down into the pillows. "Just lay back and let me take care of you."

Understanding dawned on him, and he shook his head no. "Don't want you demeanin' yourself like that."

"Demeaning?! Is that what you think?" At Daryl's confused expression, Sera gave a husky laugh. "I rather enjoy it, actually."

"Really?" Daryl had never once heard a girl say that she enjoyed going down on a man. He always thought it was something they only did to get someone to stop complaining.

Sera's right hand slipped beneath the covers to rhythmically stroke him over the material of his cargo pants. "Oh yeah."

With a small groan, Daryl shook his head. "But I can't do anything for you."

Sera chuckled slightly. "Babe, you already do too much. It's my turn right now. Just let **me** take care of **you** tonight."

Daryl took a deep breath and ran his hand down her back, feeling the long, thick braid of her hair. It was the span of a second for him to remember his fleeting thought by the fire the night before and give in. He nodded up at her before he caught the elastic holding her hair together. Slipping it off, he tossed it toward her side of the bed and began working her hair loose. If he was going to let this happen, he wanted her hair free for his fingers.

Sera smiled at his nod and then let herself enjoy his ministrations on her hair, openly relishing the feeling of his rough fingers working the curls loose and leaning her head into his hand at the back of her head. When he grasped a handful of fiery curls and pulled her down for a long, slow burn of a kiss, Sera moaned happily and let her right hand slide over his cotton clad stomach and back to the hard length below. She felt the growl of approval in his chest, and pulled her mouth from his to nibble and lick along his jaw to his neck.

Moving down, she rucked his shirt up enough to place small kisses along the skin just above the waistline of his pants, paying special attention to a few faint scars. The button and zipper parted like water under her nimble fingertips, and she relished his quiet sigh as the pressure eased along his once imprisoned length. She lapped at his hipbone while they worked together to lower his pants and boxers, before leaving little licking kisses across to his other side, smiling and giggling at how Daryl's sounds of enjoyment were interrupted be the occasional twitch of a tickled muscle. Sera took in the sight of Daryl, hard and waiting and wanting, before she focused on his eyes, opened her mouth, and slid the flat of her tongue over him from base to tip.

His reaction was immediate and gratifying. A low hiss worked its way between his teeth while his hips rose slightly in a silent plea for more and his hands made fists in the sheet. As she settled down into a good slow rhythm, little begging noises worked their way out of the man below her, and she knew it had been a very long time. Drawing a few inches away from him, Sera smiled at his disappointed moan.

"Daryl," she let her breath feather over him as she grasped his hand and guided it to her head. "Don't push, or I'll gag. Just show me how you like it."

He began by spreading her hair out around her body so that it tickled over his thighs. Then, he ran his fingers through some of the curls around her face as she slowly took him down her throat. Even though she had told him to, Daryl felt like a letch as he palmed the back of her head and began urging her with the slightest pressure to move faster. When she moaned around him and took his direction, the feeling was quickly replaced by pleasure and an odd, bolstering pride.

Sera loved the warm fullness of him filling her mouth and throat, the power she felt as the gruff and unstoppable man positively whimpered with his need. She could tell he was trying to be gentle; the hand not in her hair was twisting the sheets savagely while the one nestled among her curls gripped and guided without pain. When he began twitching, Sera knew the end was near and placed restraining hands on his now writhing hips.

"You need to move, girl." Daryl had enough experience to know that some girls didn't like the taste of what he was about to do.

Sera merely hummed contentedly and moved her head faster.

"Sera. . . sweetheart," he suddenly let go of her and balled both hands into the pillow on either side of his head. "Shit!"

Sera snapped her eyes to his face, watched his arms flex and his head tilt back as he rode the waves of his pleasure. She wanted this view burned into every cell of her body. Daryl Dixon was, for one shining, crystalline moment, the most beautiful vision in the world. She knew no one else would ever believe her, including the man she was currently tucking back into his pants, but she knew the truth. Sera had just witnessed a raw and powerful kind of perfection.

"Damn," his voice came out like sandpaper on marble and he gave a dry, wheezy chuckle. "C'mere."

Sera slid up the bed where she dropped a chaste kiss on his smirking lips. "Need a drink or anything?"

Daryl shook his head and pulled her down to rest against his chest, his heart beating a staccato lullaby as his fingers slid through her curls. "Night, Catchfly."

Sera snuggled into his warm chest, enjoying the amount of heat his body pumped out. "Night."

O:O:O:O:O:O:

The gray predawn light lit the room just enough for Sera to see as she suited up. She knew Daryl wouldn't be happy with her leaving, but people needed to eat. Carl and Sophia were both getting better, but she wanted to have a little time to herself this morning. Her time with Daryl the night before had left her feeling wound up and twitching. If she could get a few rabbits or sizable squirrel early, she would have a little time alone in her tent to take care of herself.

She had a feeling it would be nowhere near as good as having Daryl work her out, but better than nothing.

As she reached for her quiver, the object of her thoughts shifted on the bed and snuffled quietly, drawing her attention away from her weapons. As she watched, his hand slowly slid over the space beside him, as if his body recognized her absence. There was a rumble of disapproval in the air as his cobalt eyes blinked lazily before capturing her.

"Where you goin', Catchfly?"

Sera had noticed that he used his name for her more often since returning. "Gonna go solo for an hour or so before I start in on Sophia and Carl."

Daryl's scowl said more than he was willing to. "No."

Sera's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What?"

"Said no."

"I know what you said," Sera continued to affix the quiver to her waist. "I was giving you a chance to change what you said."

"I don't want you out there by yourself." Daryl snorted. "Hell, I don't want you out there at all."

"Daryl, honey," Sera shifted her quiver and knife to settle next to his hip on the bed. "I need to hunt. We gotta eat."

Daryl sighed and pushed at the covers. "Get me my boots."

"Oh, I don't think so." Sera smiled softly and placed a restraining hand on his chest. "I'm going to do this, then take the Chickadee and Carl out for a bit. After I get the kills cleaned, I'll come back in with you."

"Ain't gonna just sit here all day."

Sera smiled at his petulant tone before kissing him softly. "Yes, you are. If you want to be able to walk around tomorrow, you need to stay off that ankle today."

Daryl had to admit that she was right, though he was loathe doing so. "What 'm I s'posed to do all day?"

"I'll be back before noon, and we'll figure out something." She placed another kiss along his lower lip. "For now, sleep and eat something. You lost a lot over the last two days, and you need a little R&R."

When she would have sat back, Daryl grasped her arm and pulled her down against him. "I'm thinkin' I owe you somethin'."

Sera's surprised expression made him rethink his actions, and he dropped his eyes. "Sorry."

"Don't be." She held eye contact until he understood that she wasn't embarrassed by their activity or angry with him on any level. "Now, I'm gonna git so I can be back sooner."

Daryl nodded and drew her in for a slow goodbye kiss. "Kinda never wanna stop doin' that."

"Mmmm… Think that's a good thing." Snatching up her bow, Sera sent him a wink before slipping out of the room.

She nearly ran into Patricia, who was coming down the stairs to start her day.

The older woman smiled slightly. "Hello."

"Hello," Sera glanced back at the door she had just shut. "Do you think you could bring him some breakfast? I'll bring you back some meat for supper if you can handle feeding him this morning."

"Of course. It's no problem."

"Thanks."

That taken care of, Sera started out over the dusty grass. She waved to Carol and T-Dog, and then pointed at the woods so they knew where she would be. There was a tingle between her shoulders and she knew that, if she looked at the window to Daryl's room, there would be a set of crystal blue eyes staring back.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

Daryl had been mildly surprised when there was a soft knock at the door about ten minutes after Sera disappeared among the trees. When Patricia came in carrying a plate of eggs and ham, Daryl raised an eyebrow. She explained the trade Sera had made, and Daryl made sure to eat everything on his plate but refused any more. It was enough to justify the Greenes receiving something in trade, but not enough to put them out.

Hershel came in soon after he had finished eating. "Good morning, young man."

"Ain't so young, old man." Much of the bite was taken from Daryl's words by his teasing tone. He genuinely liked and respected the old vet.

Hershel chuckled and went about checking Daryl over with his usual quiet efficiency. "How is that hole in your mouth feeling?"

"Fine," Daryl opened to show the healing spot on his gum line. "Never had any trouble with that sort of thing, even when I had wisdom teeth out."

"Very good to hear." Hershel unwrapped his ankle and prodded the area around the joint, pleased that the swelling was down and nothing seemed to be dislocated or broken.

Daryl quickly ran through his options. While he knew there would be no leaving Sera, and that he wanted her to stay by him, he wasn't so sure that she would share his thoughts. If he was going to do this, however, he was going to do it right. That meant having a ring, which meant asking for help.

Daryl hated asking for help.

"Hey, Doc?" Daryl couldn't seem to keep the uncertainty from leaking into his words.

Hershel, caught off guard by the tone, looked up quickly. "Yes?"

"You got any tools 'round here?"

"Well, now, a fair few." Finished wrapping Daryl's ankle, Hershel stood slowly and rubbed at his back. "Why?"

Leaning up a bit, Daryl snagged the leg of his pants that had been thrown across the chair in the corner the night before and pulled them into his lap. A quick search turned up the spoon he had dropped in his pocket. When he held it up for the older man to see, Hershel was clearly puzzled.

Daryl turned the spoon over in his fingers, staring at the etched leaves. "Gonna make the girl a ring."

Hershel liked Sera and thought Daryl was a decent man, though his demeanor was surly at best. "What do you need?"

When the older man didn't question his intent or methods, Daryl sighed. Relief and gratitude were something foreign to him, and so Daryl pushed the unfamiliar emotions aside in favor of focusing on the task at hand. "Metal cutter, sand paper, decent sized rod to bend it around."

"Going to need a few things from the shed, but I think I can help you out."

Daryl nodded and looked back down at the covers. "Want to ask her tonight."

"With the way of the world these days, better sooner than later."

"Yeah, seems about right." Daryl nodded and fiddled with the silver. "Won't be no preacher and isle thing."

Hershel nodded with understanding. "While I believe something ought to be said in front of God and friends, I don't see why it couldn't be a private matter between just the two of you."

Daryl heaved a sigh of relief. He was having trouble working up to what he wanted to say. At least the older man was being understanding about everything so far. It was more of a relief than he cared to admit that Hershel didn't think it was necessary to make a spectacle of himself.

"We ain't teenagers, you know? We've both been around the block a time or two."

"I know," Hershel understood now that Daryl was attempting to say something that he found difficult.

Blue eyes, made soft with unspoken worry, glanced up into his own. "Gonna be her wedding night."

And now Hershel recognized the problem. "And you would like that first night to be in a more comfortable location than a tent."

When all Daryl could muster was a shrug and a nod, Hershel smiled. "Well, I don't see a reason for you to be moving around on that ankle too much just yet."

"Thanks." While the usual gruffness was there, Daryl's voice was softer with genuine gratitude.

Hershel gave a small smile and a wink before walking out the door in search of the tools Daryl would need.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

Sera's morning hunt had been far more productive than she had thought possible, as she was returning to camp with a rare treat. About a mile from the house, in an open space among the trees too large to be a natural meadow, Sera had spotted a small wild hog.

Its black coat glistening with dew in the morning light, the boar snuffled along the weeds. While it wasn't a huge animal, Sera knew its teeth would be a few inches long and it would attack if it felt threatened. With that in mind, she scaled a nearby tree and wiggled out on a branch to take her shot.

The arrow struck true, just between to shoulders, but did not go deep enough for an instant kill. The hog let out a squeal as it began a limping, pathetic run. Jumping from her perch, Sera sprinted across the field after it. It fell twenty feet from where it had been shot, huffing quiet sounds of protest and anger. She cringed internally at its pain, but knew she would have to finish it off quickly so that it wasn't suffering any longer than it had to.

A boot over its muzzle prevented the pig from biting her hand as she went for the kill, sinking her gifted knife through its eye and deep into the brain. That finished, she said a short prayer and thanked the animal for its sacrifice. Field dressing it where it lay, she used her Holligan to dig a bit of a hole and buried the organs to cut down on the walkers it would attract.

She could now see some pieces of an old foundation here and there, answering her initial question about such an open area so deep in the Georgia wilds.

Lugging the hog back to the farm wasn't hard, though she didn't relish the feel of it against her neck and down her spine as she walked with it on her shoulders. There were no walkers to contend with, however, and she knew that was a small blessing. Today had already been exceptionally good to her, and Sera made a note to say a prayer of thanks for it all before going to sleep that night.

Sophia and Carl were the first ones to come running when T-Dog's shout of welcome echoed over the camp. The boy was a bit put out at first, when he realized that she had already done a majority of the butchering, and made it a point to let her know that he and Daryl would have handled it. Sera simply smiled and told him that Daryl would have to show him how to do it properly the next time they brought in a hog, but she would show him how to skin and properly harvest the meat so that he would be able to surprise the older man. Pacified, Carl set to helping with ease, though he turned away from time to time to catch his breath and quell the turning in his stomach.

Sophia had run to the house to tell her mother and Daryl the news. Carol, who had been holding a wooden spoke from the back of a broken chair so that Daryl could bend the metal around it, was properly excited by the thought of pork and impressed that Sera had brought it down in the space of three hours. (She had come in earlier to see if he needed anything, and found him working on the ring. Sophia had soon followed, and was now in on the plan.) Daryl was at once proud of Sera and a bit disappointed that he hadn't been the one to supply the camp with enough meat to last a few days.

Picking up on the hunter's thoughts, Sophia smiled slightly. "Carl is trying to help her get it ready, but I think he's gonna get sick."

Daryl was still a little disappointed, but the thought did cause a chuckle. "The first big animal is always the hardest."

"It's not that bad," Sophia shrugged. "Really ugly, though. And kinda smelly, too."

After she left, Daryl went back to work while Carol held the rod and watched the bustling of camp through the open window. He managed to curve the stem around two full turns so that it would rest against her skin well and left some room for a little adjusting in one direction or the other. Carol thought the whole situation to be utterly romantic, and wisely chose to not mention a word about that to the man working so diligently in front of her.

"She's going to love this, you know." Carol's words were soft.

Daryl nodded slightly. "Just don't want her runnin' away or laughin'."

Carol leaned down until she could look into his eyes. "She would absolutely **never **laugh at you for something like this."

"Might run away, though."

Pointing a thin finger and his creased brow, Carol grinned. "If you scowl at her like that when you ask, maybe."

Daryl's face smoothed out a bit. Carol said they were family, and the older woman acted as if they were a couple of teenaged kids. _May as well ask her for advice_.

"Think she'll say yes? Ain't known each other long."

"That hardly mattered before, and it matters less now." She stacked his pillows behind him and straightened up around the already clean room. "You feel how you feel. Absolutely nothing wrong with that."

"My family wasn't like hers. What if –"

"The only family that matters right now is the one you two build together. If it's with the group as a whole or just myself and Sophia, that is for you to decide." Carol smirked knowingly and cut her eyes toward Daryl's prone form. "Besides, would it matter to you if Merle didn't like her?"

"Hell no," Daryl snorted. "'Sides, Merle **will** like her."

"So why should it matter what her family may or may not have thought of you?" Carol smiled softly as her eyes lost focus. "It's a clean slate for people like us, Daryl. We can start over."

Daryl, who had never thought of such a thing, fell silent as he ran his finger over the word he had etched into the back of the ring: _Dixon's_

O:O:O:O:O:O:

While Seraphim spent the day reading the rest of _The Princess Bride _to Daryl, Sophia, and Carl (after she washed the blood and stink of the boar from her pale skin), she couldn't help but feel that Daryl was upset with her. He would smile or chuckle from time to time and even snickered at Humperdink a few more times, but he did not seem as interested or emotionally invested as he had appeared to be the last time she read aloud.

Carl was suitably impressed with Inigo's revenge, and Sophia sighed at all the right parts, but Daryl simply chewed his nail and sharpened the blades he was brought. Nothing else had occurred over the course of the morning to have resulted in such a moody hunter, so Sera viewed the whole affair as a waste of a good hog. If Daryl was angry or disappointed with it, then her enjoyment was greatly diminished.

Dinner that night was a festive affair, with the hog having been roasted over the fire (everyone took turns rotating it on an improvised spit) and the Greens supplying the sides. Spirits were high, stomachs were full, and the skies were clear. Maggie had poked holes in the tops of two old mayonnaise jars for Carl and Sophia, and Beth had convinced her sister, Glenn, and Jimmy to join her and the kids in running around the space between the house and tents catching fireflies. Sera smiled at the scene, reminded of warm summer evenings during her childhood, before accepting two heavily laden plates and making her way in to see Daryl.

"I've got two very full plates, here." Sera forced her voice to be light, even though she felt like sulking back to her tent. "Did you want to eat now?"

"Hell yeah, I wanna eat!" He stretched his hand out of a plate. "Been smellin' it all damn day!"

"Oh," Sera felt her mood lighten with his obvious enthusiasm. "Okay then!"

"What?" Daryl had no clue why she had been acting so sulky for the past hour.

Sera looked up from where she had been cutting into her meat. "What, what?"

"You've been moping for a bit. Didn't know why."

Sera giggled. "I thought you were mad about me getting a hog!"

"Why the hell would I be mad 'bout decent food?" Daryl was nearly outraged at the ridiculousness of the thought. "I woulda got us a deer if it weren't for those dead assholes. I'm just glad you didn't run into any."

"If you aren't upset about that, then why have you been so weird all day?"

Daryl chuckled. "Weird?"

"You barely laughed at the reading, not even the part where Westley gives his 'To the Pain' speech!" Sera had been a bit offended at his lack of response to that.

Daryl shrugged. "Just got somethin' on my mind is all."

"Oh," Sera scooped up a pile of corn. "Wanna talk about it?"

"After we eat." Daryl took a calming breath. "It can wait 'til then."

Sera nodded, and the two plowed into their plates with enthusiasm. She had overseen the seasoning of the meat and the height of the spit, so it had turned out spicy and tender. Carol had done a great job of making sure it stayed moist, and the fire remained at the right height. Daryl finished quickly, but declined a second plateful.

When Sera finished her own, she looked expectantly over to Daryl. "Now, what was it that we need to talk about?"

Daryl cleared his throat and began plucking at the sheet. "Did you mean what you said the other day? About us making a go of things, I mean?"

"Yes," Sera smiled at the memory of their conversation. "It's pretty obvious that we work well together, I think."

"My family isn't like yours." Scowling at the thought, Daryl continued. "My old man was a horrible drunk and drug addict, and my momma weren't much better. Merle, my older brother, he was goin' down the same path."

Sera had heard the name mentioned in passing from various people over her time at camp. While he didn't sound like someone she would've chosen to spend time with, she had a feeling she wasn't getting the whole story on Merle Dixon. Daryl, being the younger brother, probably owed some loyalty to Merle for getting between him and their father from time to time. That's generally how abusive families operate, after all.

"Well," Sera thought over her words carefully, "I think he just lost his way a bit."

"Yer just bein' nice." Daryl shook his head. "He's a mean, tough asshole."

"Maybe he is." Sera smiled fondly. "But, sometimes mean, tough assholes can be good people to be around."

"Think he'd like you."

Sera nodded sagely. "Most people do. I'm extremely likable."

"I'm not. . . " Daryl deflated in front of her eyes. "I'm not as good as I want to be."

Sera wanted to interrupt, but remembered his reaction the last time he had insulted himself. She kept quiet and watched as he fought for the words he was looking for.

"I'm trying, though, and I think you make me better than I could be by myself." His voice caught as he spoke and slid his hand under his pillow. The cool metal felt hot and uncomfortable against his hand, foreign and heavy with the weight of tradition.

"I'm better with you, too." Sera moved their plates to the table and sat facing him.

When she reached to brush his too long bangs from his eyes, Daryl jerked back and then captured her callused fingers in his own. The silver flashed in the soft lamplight as he held it up for her to see. As a soft realization began to play over her features, Daryl had a thought, and he began to swivel away from her to stand.

"Daryl? What –"

"I'm fuckin' it up already," he mumbled and tried to pull his hand from hers. "Should be on a knee and shit."

Sera's sunshine bright laugh ricocheted off the ceiling and she pulled herself across the bed by using his hand and arm as a rope. "I don't want you on a knee. I love you being tall and proud. . . and cursing during a time like this."

"Yeah?" Daryl had caught what she said, but knew he wasn't about to be so effeminate as to say it back.

"Yeah."

Daryl nodded grimly. "Ain't a proposal. You wear it, and it's done."

"Okay." Sera smirked at his incredulous look. "I never wanted a big ceremony like most girls, and could care even less about one now. I just want you to be you, and for me to be me, and for us to be an us."

"You make no sense sometimes, woman." Daryl's growl was affectionate as he grasped the fingers of her left hand and licked his lips. "You wear this, it means yer mine. Ring even says so."

Sera leaned forward and caught sight of the inscription, laughing again with the absolute sheer joy of the moment. "Seraphim Louise Dixon. Kinda like the sound of that."

"Jesus," Daryl gave a bark of unexpected laughter. "Mrs. Daryl Dixon."

Sera wiggled her fingers and grinned playfully. "Not yet, I ain't."

With one last steadying breath, Daryl slid the ring home. He fiddled with it for a moment to tighten the coil around her finger. When he didn't lift his head immediately afterward, Sera cupped his jaw and brought it up so that their lips almost touched.

"You gonna kiss me or –"

Daryl's lips were slightly chapped when they touched against hers, but he was so gentle that it didn't matter. His hands snagged a curl slightly as he attempted to sink them into the hair at the nape of her neck. There was a mass of braids formed into two buns at the back of her head, and Daryl growled in frustration.

"Well, I'm sorry." Sera shook her head at his antics. "It's not like I knew you would want my hair down."

"Always want your hair down." Grasping her shoulders, he turned her around on the bed and began plucking out the bobby pins that held the braids in place.

Sera giggled as he all but growled at one particularly stubborn pin. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Like it when I can see all your crazy curls and shit." Another peal of her laughter had him smiling in return as he worked the last pin free and began unbraiding it all.

Running his fingers through the curls, he caught little shivers running over her spine when he brushed her neck or the patch of skin visible along the hem of her shirt. Sweeping the heavy curtain off her shoulders with his right hand, he held it to the side in order to lick and nibble at the nape of her neck, luxuriating in the soft mewling sounds and barely audible gasps she made. His left hand slid around her waist, drawing her back between his legs until she was flush against his chest.

Sera let Daryl angle her head in any way he saw fit as he moved his lips and tongue along her neck, resting her arms around his bent legs to lightly rub his shins and calf muscles. When her left hand slid over his bare foot, she became puzzled. A second pass proved she had felt correctly, and she moved slightly so Daryl would look at her.

"Where's the ankle wrap? You need to leave it on until Hershel says otherwise."

Daryl chuckled and leaned his forehead against hers. "He said I could leave this morning. Told him I didn't want your wedding night to be in a tent."

The sweetness of her new husband washed over Sera, and she brought his mouth back down to her own for just a moment. "That was very perfect of you, you know."

Daryl settled on pulling her head back at a deep angle in order to kiss her as deeply and thoroughly as he desired. As he did, his left hand began traveling up her torso, her shirt catching on his wrist so that it slid up to reveal the soft white skin beneath. Drawing away from her lips, Daryl focused on her eyes as he pulled the material free. The plain green sports bra she wore bore a few stains.

"Sorry for the lack of pretty lace." Sera was mortified. Her first time as a married woman, and she's wearing a deep green sports bra that looked more like a small tank top than fancy lingerie.

Daryl's quiet voice rumbled from where he was nibbling at her left shoulder. "Sexiest damn thing I ever saw."

Before she could comment further, Daryl's mouth was back on hers. His teeth nibbled at her lower lip before he bit down harder. As she gasped at the unexpected electric sting of tantalizing pain, Sera felt Daryl shift and her back meet the sheets. His hand in her hair cushioned her head and the served to draw it back at another sharp angle to allow his mouth room to lick and nibble over the front of her throat.

Sera's husky groan and impatient undulation drew his attention back to her breasts. Moving both hands to the underside of her bra, he gave her lips tiny teasing licks until he had to stop in order to remove the offending piece of cloth and elastic. With her skin bared to his eyes, he stretched out along her side and sunk his hand back into her curls. Resting his weight on his elbow, Daryl began a slow, deliberate exploration of her body.

Rosy nipples rose in wonderful, stiff peaks from her lush breasts. His hand fit perfectly over the soft mounds, and he ran his thumb over one until her back arched in a delicious wave of want. Only when a soft groan of near pain worked itself from her swollen lips did he pinch it and begin to work it by rolling the flesh between his fingers.

Lowering himself to take her left nipple between his lips, he caught sight of something that drew him up short. A line of black script ran along her ribs just under her breast. _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good. _Smirking, Daryl ran his tongue over the words before lowering his back to his original target.

Sera nearly came off the bed at the dual sensation of rough, callused fingers and soft, loving lips on her breasts. "Oh, Daaaaaaryl."

When he shifted to take switch sides, Sera grasped the hem of his shirt and began to draw it over his head. Daryl pulled away a bit and gently pulled her hands away. When he dipped back down, and she again reached for him, Daryl began to withdraw completely.

Sensing his distance, Sera blinked her eyes open in confusion. The sad reluctance in his face told her without words that he was ashamed of his body in a way that only came with the carrying of scars and old wounds.

"I've seen them already," her voice was soft and loving. "You're perfect to me."

Daryl shook his head slightly and crossed his arms before bringing his right thumb to his teeth. "Don't want nothin' ugly tonight."

"The only thing ugly about your body is how you got those scars." Sitting up and moving to straddle his thighs, Sera grasped his face in both hands. "Those marks tell me that I have the bravest, strongest man around, and I am **so proud** to call you mine."

Daryl's frown melted into a look of wonder as she spoke, and he nearly threw her to her back before whipping his shirt over his head and trailing her down onto the bed. While she expected something wild and fast to follow, he simply returned to the slow mapping of every inch of her skin. While his mouth remained occupied with her breasts, his hand traced indistinct patterns along her side.

When Sera began running her hands through his hair and over the skin and scars of his back, Daryl tensed for a split second until she stretched against him in a silent plea to continue. Realizing that she had meant what she said, he continued with a new determination. She said his body was good enough, so it must be.

The button and zipper of her jeans opened easily, and his large hand slid between cotton and skin to run along the top of her damp heat. Her unintelligible mumbles and sighs of satisfaction drove him on, and he was soon slipping his longest finger over her slit. Realizing with a sudden clarity that he would never get the right angle with her pants on, Daryl began working them and her panties down her legs and off her tiny feet. Sera began to protest his being overdressed, but his hands were suddenly on her leg, and she forgot how to speak.

Grasping her right leg, he slid it over his shoulder. His tongue and lips began working over the sensitive skin at the back of her knee while his fingers traced over her thigh again and again before tickling at her wetness. Sera couldn't stop herself from writhing against his lips and hand, at once loving and being frustrated by his every movement.

Using the knee over his shoulder she urged him forward. When he gave his odd wheezing chuckle without explanation, she nearly became uncomfortable, but was quickly mollified as his lips and tongue followed the path his fingers had taken. When he placed himself between her bent legs and slid his arms under her thighs before grasping her hips to hold her down, Sera pushed against them to test his hold.

"Not goin' anywhere, darlin'." His tongue slid over her, and Sera's chest and head torqued off the bed in reaction.

Molten lava ripped its way through her nerves, the most pleasant torture imaginable. "Oh! Oh, fuck!"

When he chuckled against her, his tongue doing the most delicious acrobatics, Sera began to feel the electric sizzle and heavy lusciousness of a slow building orgasm. Letting herself relax into Daryl's ministrations, Sera was able to appreciate and enjoy each slow, sure stroke of his tongue and was surprised when he began to add short, staccato beats against her clit. When his thick, sure fingers began to make an appearance in conjunction with his mouth, Sera became lost in the thick fog of rapture.

When she was able to focus once again, Sera blinked up into the slightly cocky face of a very pleased redneck. Smiling her most pleased, decadent smile, she wrapped her leg over his hip and pulled him to her. Using his hand and gazing into her eyes, he guided himself back to the little slice of heaven he had just thoroughly loved with his mouth.

Sera barely managed to maintain eye contact as she was filled with the hard length of him, her spine bowing in reaction and her toes curling tightly. When Daryl grasped the leg at his hip and began to move, she whimpered softly. The heavy heat was back, and the satisfied gleam in his eyes told her that Daryl was very aware of is effect of her. When a twist of his hips had him bumping just the right spot, Sera wrapped her arms around his shoulders and drew him down against her.

"Daryl, baby," Sera gasped against his ear as she wrapped her other leg around his waist. "Keep doing just that."

"Like that, Catchfly?" His labored breathing fluttered over her neck and shoulder as he rested on his elbows and plunged his hands into the hair behind her head.

"Mmmmm. . . . . . Yeah." Sera nodded in the small space he allowed her. "That's so good."

His pleased growl rumbled against her chest. "Gonna make you cum so good, baby."

His use of the endearment caught her off guard and ratcheted her pleasure up further. "Unh. So close."

"Yeah?"

Sera whimpered against the spot she was biting on his neck.

"Nah, yer not **that **close." Pulling back only slightly, but still allowing her to nibble on his shoulder, he changed his angle and brought one of his hands down to her bundle of nerves.

Sera was lost. Her teeth sunk deep into the flesh of Daryl's shoulder, though she felt only the clenching fire racing through her veins. Her short nails tore into the flesh of his back in a vain attempt to anchor herself to the corporeal plane as her soul somehow traveled to the most perfect form of heaven. She heard Daryl moan her name and knew he had followed her into the ether.

There was a soft chuckle in her ear as he did something with his hand. Then, there was nothing but rapture and blackness.


	20. Night Moves

**Thank you for the reviews. A lemon and advancement of the story to get you past that last episode, which was NOT OKAY!**

**Met up with Reedus and Rooker over the weekend at Horror Hound. Norman smells like coffee and cigarettes. Also, they are both far too sweet and nice. **

Seraphim's eyes blinked open to the sight of Daryl, cargo pants riding low on his hips, striding from bathroom carrying a glass of water into the night-darkened room. There was a smile playing over the corners of his mouth as he rolled his shoulders languidly. His stride was a little different, and she realized with a start that he was **strutting**.

"You look extremely pleased with yourself." Sera giggled from where she was curled against the pillows.

"Why shouldn't I?" He placed the can next to his side of the bed and sipped the water before handing her the glass. "You look pretty happy yourself."

"Oh, I didn't say you didn't earn it." Sera set the glass down and stretched her aching legs.

"Good," Daryl snagged her left ankle and began rubbing her foot much as she had his own just the night before. "Lost you there for a second."

"Not my fault I couldn't breathe right." Arching slightly, she rubbed at a cramp in the small of her back. "Can't help that you're amazing."

Daryl blushed deeply, his ears turning a lovely scarlet, before urging her onto her stomach so he could rub her back. "Let me get that."

"Mmmmmm," Sera didn't attempt to hide her pleasure at his ministrations. It had been a while since her last boyfriend, and her body was out of practice.

Daryl's hands slid over her skin, easing the ache and eradicating any knots. It didn't take long for Sera's aches to disappear and morph into a burning need. She slowly began to push against his hand, arching like a kitten. The sounds trickling from her parted lips called to Daryl, and he brought his lips and tongue down to work on the dimple at the base of her spine until she gave a choking gasp and slowly wriggled against his mouth.

Sliding his tongue over the tree trunk decorating her spine, Daryl savored the softness and salt of her skin. When he reached the top of the branches, he began nibbling along her right shoulder blade, loving the way her mewls turned to soft, husky moans. His left hand took the brunt of his weight as his right guided her hips to rub back against his now throbbing groin.

"You ready for me again, Catchfly?" Daryl pushed lightly against her, fascinated by the way she was suddenly up on her elbows and pushing against him decisively.

Sera was at once in love with the way his gruff voice washed down her spine, and desperate for him to put it to use in other ways. "Y – Yes."

Sera's breathy response had him shucking his pants and reaching for the box of foil squares he had stashed in his pack. He kept a hand on her back to hold her in place while he worked the condom down his shaft, not willing to let her move. There was something he wanted to see.

Sera looked back at him over her shoulder. "How did we forget that last time?"

"**We **didn't. You did." Daryl grinned and leaned back over her to nibble on her left shoulder. "I took care of it while you were finding your breath after I got you off the first time."

Sera's answering giggle turned into a moan as he brought her hips up off the mattress and entered her from behind. When she threw her head back and arched beautifully below him, Daryl gripped her hair close to the base of her skull so it wouldn't hurt. Gritting his teeth against the urge to just let go and pump into her, he kept his movements slow and steady as he began to pull back on the fiery curls in his fist.

Sera followed the insistent pressure against her skull, lifting her head back. When she could arch no further, and the pull continued, she came up onto her hands so that she was on all fours. When his free hand began urging one of her arms forward, Sera opened her eyes and smiled in understanding. With first her right and then her left, Sera reached forward and grasped the top of the headboard so that she was spread wide and off the mattress.

Daryl rewarded her by thrusting faster for a moment before pulling back to see the picture she made in front of him. Her hair spilled over her right shoulder to pool on the sheets, a few tendrils slipping over her back to frame the spot where they were connected. Her pale skin was nearly translucent in the moonlight, his tanned skin contrasting with it and making her appear delicate and doll-like under his surging strength. The toned muscles of her arms stood in stark relief under her skin, telling him that she was in that position because she allowed it, and not because he forced her.

When she spread her legs wider and began to pull against his hold in order to rest her chest on the bed, he released her hair and gripped her hips with both hands. "Doin' okay, girl?"

"Oh, God," Sera whimpered into the pillows. He was hitting some secret, aching spot deep inside with each thrust. The rumble of his voice just heightened her pleasure, and she grumbled her frustration when he stopped.

Daryl heard the soft sound of disappointment and frowned. "What do you need, sweetheart?"

The full body shiver that wracked her frame in reaction to his voice told him that he had just done something right. As he hadn't changed anything else, Daryl wondered briefly if it wasn't something about the way he spoke. _Is she wantin' me ta say somethin'?_

"You like this, Catchfly? Like what I'm doin' to ya?"

Crying out wordlessly, Sera could only thrust back onto him in frantic need.

"Yeah," his chuckle was pure male satisfaction. "You like that."

When she fluttered around him softly in response, he suddenly **needed **to see her face. More than that, he wanted to watch her as she took her pleasure. Pulling away from her and smiling at her groan, Daryl laid down at her side.

"C'mere, pretty girl."

Sera was sliding down on his hard length before he finished speaking, groaning as he filled her completely and relishing his quiet moan. Wanting him to make that sound again, she swept the heavy curtain of her hair behind her back and arched gracefully as she settled into a nice, slow grind. When he growled in response and brought his hands to stroke and pinch at her nipples, Sera gasped and came immediately.

"God, I love that sound."

When Daryl growled again, Sera threw herself forward and kissed him deeply. "I'm gonna cum again real soon if you keep that up."

"C'mon, sweetheart," Daryl's voice was a gravel pit in the best sense of the phrase. "Show me how you like it."

Little shivers began to run down her spine at the gruffly loving command, and she was powerless to deny him. Pulling back from his mouth, she sat up straight and brought her ankles up to rest on his thighs. The extra leverage had her rising higher off him and coming down in more controlled rolls of her hips. When her head dropped back, boneless, on her shoulders and she slid her right hand down to fondle her clit, little sparks of fire began appearing behind her eyelids and she knew it wouldn't last much longer.

"Jesus Christ, girl!" Daryl had never experienced such a sight as the beautiful woman above him. The moonlight made her glow, her curls a soft, radiant halo around her as she impaled herself on him in a slow, languid back and forth roll of her hips. When she began to play with herself and whimper softly, Daryl suddenly had to fight the insane urge to cry.

"You close, baby?" Her voice called to him like a siren, and he knew he would have followed that sound anywhere.

Biting the inside of his cheek against the pleasure, Daryl groaned. "Wanna watch you cum again."

"Then keep talkin'." She could feel her thighs and back tightening. If he would just keep speaking to her, she would be orgasming within seconds.

"Yes, ma'am." He chuckled and moaned at the way Sera sped up her movements. _She really meant that!_

"You jus' work that pretty lil' body of yers." He had noticed that his thickened accent affected her in all the right ways, and used it mercilessly now until she was nearly pulsing as she ground against him with another low whimper. "C'mon sweetheart. Let me hear ya.

"I wanna watch ya move yerself." As she started bouncing down harder, Daryl reached for her breast once again. He rolled her nipples and pulled her down so he could kiss her deeply while sinking his hands into her fiery halo.

Sera whimpered and gasped as the angle change brought her clit down against him at the perfect spot. His voice was doing something wonderful to her brain, and conscious thought was fleeting. If he would just say one more thing, she was sure she would shatter into a million pieces.

"Tha's it. Move yerself jus' like that." He felt her begin to flutter around him and brought his hips up to meet hers as he spoke. "Ya jus' go ahead and cum, babe. Then I'm gonna flip you over and fuck ya good an' hard."

Sera let the waves wash over her head and throw her off the ledge into shattering ecstasy. The pieces of her soul splintered out in front of her eyes, like a million specks of light floating in the softly lit room. She felt them as they wrapped around Daryl and made him one of them. He was her everything now, and she knew there would no longer be a Sera without a Daryl. She didn't realize she had begun crying until his face crumpled in concern and he gathered her against his chest.

"You okay, darlin'?"

"Shhhhhh," she kissed him softly and rolled to the side until he sank down on top of her. "I'm perfect."

Sera kissed him softly and wrapped her legs high around his middle. "With you, I'm perfect."

Daryl felt something within him shift, change, expand until it brought Sera into himself and became somehow more whole. His movements were slow and deliberate now, his mouth soft and loving against her own and then along the column of her neck and shoulder. With intentional, slow care, he brought her to the brink once again before meeting her forehead with his own and staring into her eyes.

"Jesus, Sera," Daryl gasped and shuddered as he came, feeling her softly flutter as she joined him with a quiet gasp.

They lay there, silently breathing for a long moment until he pulled away to discard the used condom. When he curled his body around hers protectively and draped the quilt over their twitching legs, Daryl couldn't resist slowly running his hand over the soft curve of her hip. She sank back against him, and he felt the unfamiliar burn of tears tickle at the back of his eyes.

"I love you, Daryl Dixon." Sera's voice was husky with the need to sleep.

Daryl chuckled shakily against her and admitted to her what she already knew. "I love you too, Seraphim Dixon."

O:O:O:O:O:O:

Morning came and went before Sera's eyes opened again, and she sighed happily at the realization that Daryl was still wrapped around her. His arms caged her torso while his legs cushioned her own. For a moment, she let herself enjoy his clinging protectiveness. Then, she thought for a moment and wondered briefly how many weapons he made sure were within his reach after he asked to use the room, because she had a feeling he would not allow either of them to be far from one from now on.

When she shifted to slide out from under his arm, Daryl tightened it and pulled her back against him.

"No." This early, he sounded harsher than his motorcycle.

"Daryl, sweetie," Sera squirmed with the need to move. "I have to get up now."

"Why?"

Sera rolled her eyes at his petulant tone. "Because I need to go pee, you oaf!"

An indistinct whining growl worked its way out of throat as he let her go. The few feet to the bathroom were covered slowly, as Sera had to limp slowly along. Her legs were cramped and felt oddly loose, her back was in knots, and her head felt as if she had drank a bottle of red wine the night before. Daryl had put her through her paces alright, and she was ridiculously pleased to be so sore.

Daryl watched through cracked lids as Sera hobbled to the bathroom. He was shocked at the scratches and light bruises on her thighs and hips, and angry with himself until he caught sight of the small, secretive smile playing over her lips when she turned to shut the door, her hand playing over his handprint on her right hip.

Remembering the details of the night before, Daryl grinned and rolled to put his hands behind his head on the pillow. _Hell yeah. I did that. That was __**me **__making her make those sounds, and now no one can say she ain't mine._

The sound of the shower starting brought his head up, and he padded softly to the door.

"Sera?" The door opened wide under his raised hand, and he took a step back while taking her in. "You alright?"

"Better than 'alright'. I'm wonderful." Sera giggled softly, still riding the waves of elation from everything the night before. "Just need a shower to work some of the kinks out."

Daryl nodded and started to turn toward the bed when her voice stopped him.

"Wanna join me?"

The image of Sera, suds sliding down her wet back, came to mind. He managed a small nod, but chewed at his thumb nervously. "Never took a shower with someone b'fore."

"Well, I don't know if I have too much in me today, but I'd like to wash your hair for you." Sera winked.

Daryl nodded. Hair washing he could handle.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

While he did eventually receive help with washing his hair and the spot between his shoulders, Daryl had been unable to convince his body to lie dormant when faced with Sera's slick, perfect skin. Too achy to deal with fumbling around in the showers, Sera had simply pushed him against the wall and slid down to her knees in front of him. His protests were halfhearted at best, as he believed she really did enjoy such actions, and she brought him off easily. The rest of the shower went as originally planned, and they were soon both dressed and ready to leave their temporary sanctuary.

Sophia was the first to spot them coming down the stairs with their packs and bows, and she ran to meet them. "So?!"

Giggling like a sixteen year old, Sera dramatically thrust her left hand forward. "I said yes."

"I **knew** you would! Momma said I couldn't mention it to anyone in case things needed settled first, but I knew you would be fine with it!" Sophia threw her arms around Sera for a tight hug before doing the same to Daryl. "Congratulations! I'm gonna go tell mamma!"

When the girl tore back off across the yard toward her mother, Daryl raised an eyebrow at Sera. "Girls always that hyper 'bout weddin's?"

"Pretty much." Sera chuckled lightly as they trekked up the hill to their little camp, happy that they would be able to pack up her Jeep and drive back down. "Whole camp's gonna know by the time we get packed up and moved."

"Figure they would know by then, anyway." Grinning, Daryl jutted his chin in the direction of his tent. "Only gonna need the one."

Sera couldn't contain her giggle at the way he swaggered the last twenty feet to camp. "Well, don't you just look extremely pleased with yourself?"

Daryl chuckled as they stuffed their packs in the back seat of her Jeep and then wrapped his arms around her waist. "Why shouldn't I? I got you, don't I?"

Sera kissed his cheek and then turned to the task before them. "Want to set up my tent and store yours? It's got more room."

"Yeah, sounds about right." Daryl thought over the stacks of clothes in his tent and frowned. "Should probably pack up most of the clothes and shit. Keep 'em in the car in case we gotta move."

"You think we're getting' too comfortable here?"

He nodded. "Too easy to forget what it's like out there."

"So, we pack up your tent, all the medical supplies, and whatever we won't immediately need. We'll put the guns in their bag in the back seat so we can get to 'em if we need to." She worked a key off the ring she held in her hand. "Here, just in case you need in and I'm not with you."

Daryl bit back his retort and slipped it on the ring with the key to the bike. _She ought to know by now there ain't gonna be no 'in case'._

"Want to go solo or pack them together?" She was already moving to open the Jeep's doors to make packing easier.

"Let's hit 'em together. Get it over with."

Sera nodded, and they both entered her tent.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

Two hours later, Sera looked at her reassembled tent and had to admit that they worked extremely well together. After packing everything in designated packs and decamping, she and Daryl had driven their vehicles back down to the lot in front of the pretty farmhouse. While they unpacked her tent, they left Daryl's in the Jeep along with their hidden bag of guns and most of their clothes and supplies. Wordlessly, Daryl moved to set up a short distance from the other tents.

There had been little talking during the entire endeavor, though Sera found herself humming little songs as she worked. A few times, Daryl had raised an eyebrow or cracked a smile in her direction when she did a little dance or sang out loud. Now, she set up a small clothesline after Daryl shooed her out of the tent, saying he needed a minute without her chattering his ear off.

As she finished her last knot, Sera began to softly sing a jaunty little tune her Pappaw always sang as they walked through the garden.

You get a line and I'll get a pole honey  
You get a line and I'll get a pole, babe  
You get a line and I'll get a pole  
And we'll go down to the crawdad hole  
Honey, baby mine

A soft chuckle brought her attention back to the present, and to the older blonde woman standing a relatively safe distance away. The left side of Andrea's face sported a red and purple bruise, the edge of her lip marred by a small gash. Sera decided she must have caught the fragile skin on a tooth as she was hit.

"Got no time or patience for fightin' today, Andrea." She went back to her work. Andrea could stay or leave, but Sera felt she had nothing further to say.

"I didn't come to fight." The sound of Andrea's deep breath carried, and Sera knew this wasn't easy for her. "I came to say congratulations, and to try to apologize."

"I'm not the one you shot because you were too impatient to confirm what you were aiming at." Not looking away from the rope she was tying off, Sera tilted her head toward the tent. "And thank you."

She watched the blonde enter the tent to speak with Daryl, and then listened closely through the nylon as Daryl forgave Andrea far more easily than Sera anticipated, but she had a feeling it had more to do with him understanding impulsiveness and the consequences of thoughtless actions than anything else. When Andrea emerged from the tent with Daryl close behind, she stopped in front of Sera. An awkward moment followed before she held a small, hastily wrapped package out to Sera.

"I made something for you. Well, for you and Daryl." She shifted slightly from foot to foot as Sera wiped her hands on her apron and took the newspaper parcel. "I hope I did it right."

Sera carefully opened the present, as it felt very light. A moment later, she smiled as a pretty straw Brigid's cross fell into her hand. "It's beautiful, thank you."

"I know you're Irish, and my grandma used to make those for the girls when they got married." Andrea's hands slid into her back pockets and she rocked slowly back on her heels. "It's bad luck to make your own first one, a close friend has to do it. I know we're not close at all, but none of the other women seemed to be working on one."

"No, this," Sera swallowed thickly at the memories of making such trinkets of good luck for her cousins or friends over the years. "This is good. Thank you."

Daryl's southern drawl was soft as he spoke from where he was cutting a bit of rope from the end of the clothesline. "Where do you want it?"

"Let's put it right over the door," Sera tried to smile at Andrea. Daryl forgave her, and the bruised face was as much punishment as she was going to be afforded. "What do you think, Andrea?"

Andrea's smile was a little wavering at first, but steadied quickly. "I think we could all use all the luck we can get."

Daryl kept his opinion on the topic of luck to himself. He had a feeling that Sera was attempting to make peace more for him than for herself, and he didn't want to sour the deal. _'Sides, tellin' two women something neither one agrees with is only guaranteein' you a hot temper and a cold bed._

It was only after they had secured the little woven square above the outside of the tent door and were moving to get a drink beside the fire that Sera caught sight of Shane standing at the foot of the hill in front of the old, locked barn. Taking a few steps to one side allowed her to see that T-Dog was standing in a similar position on the other side of the graying structure. Each was focused exclusively on the building in front of them.

Turning her head to talk to Andrea, Sera motioned toward the scene. "What's that all about?"

"Didn't you hear?!" Sophia spoke up from where she was playing cards with Carl. "The barn's full of walkers!"


	21. Trouble At the Barn

"What do you mean there are walkers in the barn?"

After Sophia's bombshell, Sera had gone to seek out the source of the news. While the young Korean had been reluctant to discuss the situation, he had to concede that coming to him was better than getting details from others. They had found him on the front porch of the house, picking at an out of tune guitar, which Sera had liberated from his clumsy fingers and quickly tuned. Now, she sat strumming softly while Daryl stood glowering at the younger man and unconsciously tapped out a steady beat.

"Hershel thinks they can be cured." Glenn wore a mask of uncertainty and sadness. "His neighbors and friends are in there. So are his wife and stepson."

"Well. . . shit." Sera sighed heavily and shook her head before she looked to Daryl. "What d'you think?"

Daryl snorted. "Does it matter?"

Frowning, Sera stopped strumming and focused on his eyes. "Of course it matters."

"Maybe to you," Daryl jutted his chin toward the camp. "None of these people give a shit what I think or have to say."

"That's not true!" Glenn shook his head hurriedly. "You know a lot about surviving, and a lot more about people than you think."

"Fine! **Most** of these people don't care." Daryl leveled a withering glare at Glenn. "Better?"

"Anyway," Sera raised her voice just a bit in order to refocus her disgruntled husband. "What do you think we should do?"

"Ain't right and you know it," Daryl sighed deeply. "But they've been fine in there so far, and this ain't our land. Let 'em stay, as long as we got a guard set on it."

Sera handed the guitar back to Glenn and stood to lace her fingers through Daryl's. "Glad we agree."

Daryl leaned back against the rail and pulled her back to his chest. Wrapping his right arm across her chest, he pinned her to him securely. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he slid his eyes to focus on her face rather than the fidgeting Korean in front of them. "We got plans for the rest of the day?"

"Want to take a shift on watch?" Sera peeked at him over her shoulder. "I can use the time to finish the hat I'm knitting for Sophia."

"The Chickadee's gettin' a hat?"

Sera smiled at the petulant sound of his voice. "Wasn't sure if you would want one, and needed something to keep me busy the other night."

"Gonna be gettin' cold soon."

"Don't you worry. I'll get something whipped up for you." Sera giggled as Daryl scuffed his beard over the skin of her shoulder.

Glenn's chuckle drew their attention, and Daryl grumbled quietly. "What?"

"Nothing," Glenn smiled. "You two are just cute together, that's all."

Sera's laugh distracted Daryl long enough for him to get over being called "cute" by another man. Waving to the younger man, she stepped away from Daryl's chest and grabbed his hand to lead him back to their tent. It was shaping up to be a very long day.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

The afternoon sun beat down on their heads as Sera and Daryl sat on the side of the hill, working on their own projects and talking quietly. The walkers in the barn had quieted after the shouting match of the morning, though there was the occasional thud on the doors to remind them to stay alert. Sera had retrieved her large brimmed hat and a light, gauzy shirt to cover her shoulders and arms in order to stave off the bright sunlight, and Daryl would occasionally slip his fingers under the filmy material to stroke her back or thigh.

"Daryl?" Carol's quiet voice floated on the hot breeze.

Looking over their shoulders, the couple focused on the unassuming woman. She twisted her fingers together, though she managed to meet their eyes.

"Yeah?"

Now, Carol smiled at his frown. "Sorry to bother you, but the clothesline fell and I could use some help."

Daryl glanced at the barn. "For a line?"

Carol nodded. "It's full of clothes, and I'm not sure how to pull it back up."

Sera patted his knee softly. "Go on. I'll be fine."

Daryl frowned. "Ya sure?"

"To watch a building that's locked up tight?" Sera chuckled softly and nodded. "I've got this."

After glancing at Carol and back, Daryl lifted Sera's chin and dropped a soft kiss to her lips before he stood. _Can kiss my wife whenever the hell I feel like it._

Sera let her eyes follow his form as he strode to meet the older woman. Curling forward, she resumed her knitting and watching the mostly silent barn.

Sera had just finished Sophia's hat, the tassels tickling her thighs as she secured them to the ends of the ties, when raised voices caught her attention. Shane was striding down the hill, carrying a pistol and being followed by the rest of the group plus Beth and Maggie. As she watched them come, she shoved her supplies into their bag and stood slowly.

"What's going on?" Sera spoke softly as Daryl grasped her arm and drew her behind his body. "Why are ya'll armed?"

Shane interrupted before Daryl could speak. "I'll tell you what's going on. We're going to take care of this before it becomes an even bigger problem!"

"But," Sera glanced at Beth and Maggie. "I thought Rick said –"

"I don't care what-" Something caught his attention at the side of the barn. "Oh, what the hell is this?!"

Turning, Sera gasped and took an involuntary step back. She could hear others doing the same or raising their voices, but she was unable to take her eyes off the walker Rick and Hershel were wrestling to the barn on the end of dog leads. Shane quickly began yelling again, but Daryl nudged her ribs sharply before she could focus on what was being said.

"Get the kids out of here." Daryl's voice was quiet, and he didn't take his eyes off the now arguing men. "They don't need to see this shit."

Sera backed away slowly so as not to draw any negative attention before she turned and sought out the youngest members of the crowd. Finding them towards the back with their mothers, Sera looked to the older women. "The kids shouldn't see."

"How do you-" Lori's acidic words were cut short by Shane's first gunshot. "I- I should stay."

Sera nodded, now more certain than ever that something terrible was about to take place. "I'll take them back to camp. They can help me there."

Sophia went without question, knowing that Sera wouldn't say something without a reason. Carl needed to be prodded by his mother before his feet began to move.

Sera wrapped her arms around the children's waists and began a quick walk until they crested the hill and were far enough away to avoid the worst of the scene taking place behind and below them. "Do you guys know how to dye stuff with plants?"

"What kind of stuff?" Sophia's voice was overly bright and loud as she tried to avoid thinking of what was happening.

"Well, I have this wool that could be dyed today, but most clothes can be turned colors." Sera's sentence petered out with Shane's indistinct shouts and eerily rhythmic shots.

Carl turned to look down the hill, but Sera's restraining arm kept him in place. "I should be down there!"

"And leave Sophia and me alone?" Sera made sure to make her voice as disapproving as possible. "How would that help?"

Carl scowled. "You're safe in camp."

"Really?" Sera gestured toward the empty lookout post. "No one's on lookout, there's shouting and shooting, and we're the only ones up here. What happens if a couple walkers sneak up on us when we're working on dying something?"

Sophia caught on quickly and nodded at her friend. "We would be sitting ducks up here if that happened."

"Yeah, like Daryl would –"

"He's all the way down there, and we're going to the other side of the tents." Sera could hear more shouting, and fought the urge to let the kids go so she could see what was going to happen. "He wouldn't reach us in time."

"Okay, then," Carl squared his shoulders and began to lead the other two across camp just as a volley of blasts echoed behind them. "Can't let a man's wife get hurt."

"Thank you Carl." Sera gave Sophia's waist a squeeze as she led her past the campfire. "I feel much better with you around to help us out."

By the time Hershel and his girls were walking back to the house, Sera had both children very busy mashing mulberries in a large bucket. Rick and Daryl appeared over the hill close behind them, neither one speaking and both with unwelcoming glowers. The rest of the group soon followed, though no one spoke to her or the children as they gathered shovels.

Daryl looked up from the pile of tools when he heard her approach. "Whatcha need?"

"Just checking on ya is all." Sera shoved her hands deep into her back pockets and rocked back on her heels. "What happened?"

Frowning, Daryl spat to the side before answering. "Walsh busted open the locks. Forced us to shoot the poor bastards."

"Not burning them?"

Daryl shook his head. "Not all of 'em. Gonna bury the wife and kid."

"Well, that's good." Sera squeezed his shoulder and smiled up at his troubled blue eyes. "I'll keep the kids with me so they aren't underfoot."

"Might take most of the day, so you go on to bed if we ain't done."

"Like hell!" Sera gave a distinctively unladylike snort. "Someone's gotta make sure you eat."

Daryl's eyes laughed as he shook his head. "Yeah, okay."

True to her word, Sera spent the rest of the afternoon with Carl and Sophia. After the wool was dyed, Sophia's hat and some of Sera's more stained light shirts followed. After that, she spent two hours teaching them to throw a decent right hook and how to sweep an opponent's leg. Carl had been reluctant at first, but Sera pointed out quickly that they would be working in slow motion and not really striking each other. When Carol came to check on them, she ended up staying for the lesson, picking up the skill with ease and smiling down at her daughter's beaming face.

As the afternoon light began to fade into the soft blues and purples of a clear Georgia evening, Daryl came to call them back from the side field for dinner. "Thought you said you were gonna make sure **I **ate, not the other way around."

Even though his tone was teasing, Sera felt bad. "Sorry. Got to teachin' them how to land a right hook and take someone's legs out from under 'em."

"Nah, we're good." Daryl nodded at Carol and the kids walking ahead of them. "It's about time they learn how to do something more than runnin' and hidin'."

Sera shrugged noncommittally, "Sophia just thought it was cool that I punched Andrea."

"Well, that was somethin'." Daryl chuckled but quickly grew serious. "You're really good for those kids."

"I hope so." Sera's eyes grew cloudy. "Always wanted a whole mess of kids."

Daryl cleared his throat. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

His hand tightened on hers. "You'd make a good mom."

"You think?" Sera slowed as they neared the fire.

"One of the first things I liked 'bout ya."

Before Sera could respond, Lori bypassed the fire and strode up to them quickly. "Can I talk to you two?"

Daryl didn't attempt to disguise the animosity in his voice. "The hell for?"

"Rick and Glenn went into town after Hershel almost two hours ago." Lori's big brown eyes skittered over the camp. "They aren't back yet, and Beth isn't doing so well."

Sera sighed heavily. "Well, I'm sure Walsh's stunt down at the barn wasn't helpful."

"He did what he thought was right."

A dark chuckle escaped before Sera clamped her lips shut on the sound. "Not hardly."

"What're you tellin' us this for?" Daryl saw his vision of a hearty dinner and then a quiet evening with Sera fading.

Lori twisted her fingers together and looked to the house. "Beth isn't talking or eating. Just stares at the wall."

"Shit," Sera looked up at Daryl. "We've gotta go bring him back."

"Rick and the Chinaman-"

"Are in trouble if they ain't back yet." Sera disliked interrupting people, but Daryl wasn't about to agree with her, and she had to do something to get his attention.

Daryl sniffed and spit to the side. "Why should we risk our necks for Olive Oyl here?"

"Would be for the poor little girl upstairs who just saw her mama shot, not for Olive." Sera ignored Lori's annoyed grunt at being named after an annoying, too-thin cartoon character. "If you don't want to go, then you just stay here. I'll be back in no time."

Blue eyes growing stormy, Daryl snarled. "God damn it, woman!"

"Don't you take that tone with me, Daryl Dixon." Sera's voice was calm, though iron ran under the words. "Now, I'm goin' to town. I'd like you to come with me, but you don't have to."

"Why?"

"Because I'd do anythin' to have my Daddy back."

Daryl's resolve melted with the quaver in his wife's voice, and he rolled his head to loosen the tension in his neck. "We'll take the Jeep. Get armed."


	22. Don't Talk to Strangers

**Some dialogue is directly from the show, as it was needed.**

**Kaleiburzz - Here is some action for you!**

**VealMaster - Hope this lives up to expectations.**

**MollyMayhem84- Action scenes go together for me a lot easier than talking bits. *shrug***

The drive to town was a quiet affair, with Sera driving and Daryl keeping his eyes skirting in every direction. In addition to walkers, he had to check for signs that the others were in trouble along the way. Sera simply kept her eyes on the road and spoke only to give warnings when avoiding hazards.

"Got a crater," Sera swerved to miss a pothole that would have needed patching long before the dead started walking. "Be at the edge of town in another five minutes."

Daryl nodded to himself and began checking over his knives. "Where after that?"

"It's two blocks to the bar. Right down the main drag." The heavy silence finally getting to her, Sera glanced at Daryl before focusing once again on the road in front of them. "Thank you for coming with me. I know you think it's stupid."

"It **is** stupid." Daryl scowled in thought. "Girls never did make much sense, though."

Sera sighed and shook her head. "Did you just come to point out how illogical women are?"

"Nah," Daryl pulled teasingly at a curl that had worked itself loose from her braid. "Came to make sure you made it back."

"Don't think I can take care of myself?" Her tone was flat and a bit insulted.

Daryl gave a snort of amusement. "Know you can. Just wanted to have your back."

Sending a small smile in his direction, Sera couldn't resist teasing her new husband just a bit. "You're very sweet, Mr. Dixon."

Another disbelieving snort answered her words. "Whatever. Just drive."

The time passed quickly, and Sera was pulling into town just as the sun began to set, the empty streets awash in red and gold. When they drew near the saloon, however, an unfamiliar gray car was parked haphazardly in front of the building while Rick's familiar station wagon rested across the street. With a glance at Daryl, Sera pulled Janice around the side of the building into the alley to hide it from the main road.

"Unfriendlies?" Sera hopped to the ground.

Understanding the question, Daryl pulled Sera's shotgun from the floor behind her seat and joined her. He watched their surroundings as she used her left hand to guide it into the back holster. "Knives first, then pistols. Shotgun is last resort."

"Front?" At Daryl's nod, Sera drew her knives. "I'll take point."

Holding the knives so the flat of the blades ran down her forearms, she skirted the corner of the building with Daryl scanning the street and fronts of buildings from his post behind her. Taking the steps at a crouch, she glanced at the first window and was disappointed to find it curtained. The frosted glass on the doors revealed nothing of the inside, though she could hear unfamiliar voices. Rolling under the opaque panels, she was able to avoid possibly alerting them to her presence and slowly rose to peak through the dusty glass on the second proper window.

Daryl had his back to the building, reasonably certain that they were currently alone, though not willing to let down his guard. He watched Sera's practiced movements and wondered what her family must have been like for her to know what to do. Her father must have been a lot more interesting than she let on. When she made eye contact and patted her extended right elbow with her left hand, he recognized the signal Merle used to mean that there were unfamiliar and possibly hostile people inside. Her two extended fingers let him know how many there were.

Sera stood and mimicked Daryl's stance before speaking quietly. "We go in hot?"

Daryl listened to the conversation inside before barely shaking his head. "Nah, sounds like Rick's tryin' ta be friendly, but ain't wantin' them to know where the farm is."

Daryl lowered his crossbow, but left the bolt ready.

Sera holstered her knives and ran a hand over her one long braid before tucking the loose curls behind her ears and giving him one of his favorite, cheeky grins. "You best open that door for me, Daryl Dixon."

Daryl chuckled and grasped the handle. "Yes, ma'am."

The sound of the door opening drew the attention of the five men inside, and Sera was immediately reminded that she was the only female in the room. The testosterone pumped through the air long before the heavy man at the bar whistled lowly. Aggression and possessiveness poured out of Daryl, and Sera had time to briefly wonder if she shouldn't try to go back to the Jeep before the thinner man behind the bar spoke.

"Well, hello pretty thing." His voice was nice enough, but Sera knew not to trust it. His eyes skimmed over her legs and chest in blatant lust. "I'm Dave. This here's Tony."

"Hi," her bright greeting and accent turned the word into an elongated 'hah' which seemed to charm the brunette further. "My name's Sera, and this is Daryl. Anyone know where a girl can get a drink 'round here?"

"Certainly!" The stranger's voice was too loud, thick with forced joviality. "What can I get for you and your friend?"

Sera didn't miss the way Daryl stiffened at the blatant insult, and would have chuckled under better circumstances. "Well, I'll have some Jack. My husband could use a little of the Southern Comfort."

"Couldn't we all?" Tony tipped his head to the side and ran his tongue along his upper teeth as he surveyed Sera. "Kinda got a Laura Croft thing going on with those shorts and holsters."

"Tony," Dave's voice held a warning as he slid the two drinks down the bar. "It's not nice to ogle another man's wife."

"I was just looking. Hell, he knows his girl is hot." Tony swung his considerable weight around on the stool to face the group as a whole. "There any more of you girls running around this farm they won't tell us about? Bet they got a whole stable to pick from."

"Tony!" It was obvious the Dave wasn't happy with the way the other man was taking the conversation. Turning first to Daryl and then to Rick, Dave modulated his voice so that it was calm, though he fooled no one. "I'm sorry about my friend. We've just been on the road for some time now."

Daryl snorted humorlessly into the glass of amber liquid he had raised to his lips. "Well, ain't that special?"

"What the fuck's that supposed to mean?" Tony used an arm resting on the edge of the mahogany bar to leverage himself to his feet.

Daryl's eyes were bright in the dimming light as he focused on the younger man. "Means watch your words 'round my wife, or I'll feed 'em back to ya."

"Hey, now. Let's all take a step back and relax." Rick's light tenor slid through the tension, easing the others back and reminding Sera why he led the group. "We're all just here to have a friendly drink and exchange news."

Tony snorted and stumbled to the corner where he began to relieve himself. While his back was to the room as a whole, he caught her eye and pivoted his hips to give her a look at his exposed penis. Far from shocked at his display, Sera nearly giggled. If portly Tony thought himself impressive, then her new husband must be legendary.

"That's right," Dave's voice was closer than before, and Sera drew her eyes away from Tony to see that her glass was being refilled. "We were just asking your friends here about where you've been, but they seem reluctant to share.

"What do you say, doll?" His attempt at charm reminded Sera of the man at the feed store who always tried to get her alone so he could slide his hand along the curve of her hip or 'accidently' brush by her chest. "Shouldn't we all be sticking together?"

"While I see your point, gentlemen," Sera felt Daryl's arm brush hers as he slowly removed one of his knives from his waist and she played with her glass to disguise the movement. "Supplies are limited, and we have a lot of people to look after as it is."

"We can't stay out there!" Dave slammed the bottle down on the bar, making Sera jump slightly, and paced angrily between the bar and the long mirror on the wall. "What do you suggest we do?!"

Rick's eyes were tracking the younger man with all the focus of a well-trained officer. "I hear Nebraska's nice."

Just as Dave gave an angry shout and raised the gun that had been resting on the bar, Rick fired a clean round into his forehead. Sera cringed as blood and thick, meaty chunks clung to the mirror. Tony turned and half raised his shotgun, but Daryl's hunting knife cut through the air and embedded to the hilt in his right eye before he fired a round.

"Holy shit," Glenn gasped from where he was sitting and turned frightened eyes to the hunter. "God, you're fast."

Daryl only smirked and went to retrieve his weapon from the corpulent corpse on the floor. "Better be."

"Come on, Hershel." Rick hooked his arm through the elbow of the older man. "Let's get you home to your girls."

"That's why we came." Sera nodded at the men shakily before she took a swig from the glass still in front of her to help steady her nerves. "Beth isn't doing so well, Mr. Hershel."

"I shouldn't have run off like that. I've brought this all upon us." Hershel nodded. "I apologize for all this."

"Don't worry so much on it." Sera sighed heavily before she smiled at the gray haired man and started around the bar to drape a discarded tablecloth over Dave's body. "We all have our moments."

"What are you doing?" Glenn's shocked question had the other men turning to Sera in surprise.

"Just because they were perverted assholes doesn't mean they need to be left like that." Sera looked to Daryl. "People are people."

"Whatever." Daryl glowered darkly at his wife. When he was finished searching Tony for anything useful, however, he draped the man's jacket over his face and chest. Headlights cut through the darkness just as Daryl tucked the material over Tony's head.

"Ours?" Glenn's hopeful question was quickly dashed when male voices began calling for the two dead men.

"Sera," Daryl hissed from his spot at the other end of the bar, and Sera moved to join him quickly. "Backdoor's gotta be around here somewhere."

Rick spoke from his post beside the front door. "My car's across the street."

"Saw it." Daryl craned his head to look around the corner and into the darkened back room. "We're in the alley beside the building."

"Bike?"

"Naw, Jeep." Daryl motioned Sera ahead of him and watched her ease along the wall and stop, motioning that she had sight of the door. "We've got supplies and shit, though."

There was a brief tussle at the front door when Rick held it closed on someone trying to enter. Motioning Glenn and Hershel to follow Daryl, the deputy attempted to reason with the newcomers. Daryl nodded Sera ahead and was impressed when she turned on a small penlight and, her gun hand crossed over her left wrist, began surveying the room before she entered. Glenn and Hershel followed close behind her while Daryl took up the rear and split his attention between the back room and Rick's actions at the front door.

When a falling box drew their attention to the left, it was Sera's Beretta that fired a round into the stranger's face, the special ammunition taking out most of his head. A shout of alarm had Sera pivoting on her heel toward the sound. There was a flash and white hot pain seared through her right calf as she brought the barrel of her pistol even with a second man's head. He attempted to duck, but was caught with a bolt to the temple as he moved.

Daryl yanked the shaft of the bolt free of the attacker's head and turned to Sera. "You alright, girl?

"I'm good, just a scratch." Sera's voice was just as quiet as his had been. "Glenn is trying to get to their car and bring it around."

Gunfire erupted outside the building, and Rick was suddenly beside them. "Front's barred."

"Glenn's pinned down behind the dumpster, there." Hershel motioned to the left. "Can't see if he's hurt."

"We're to the right," Daryl removed Sera's shotgun from her back and checked to make sure it was loaded. He was startled when she stuffed some extra shells in his right pocket, as he wasn't sure where she had hidden them.

"Alright," Rick assessed the situation and nodded to himself. "We'll go to Glenn, you go right. Lay down cover till we get to the car."

Daryl sniffed deeply and spit to the side before he nodded and stepped out into the moonlight. Sera limped slightly as she followed, feeling her sock and boot becoming damp with blood. She kept her eyes open and clenched her jaw through the pain.

Movement on top of the hardware store drew her attention, and she fired into his chest just as a scope caught the moonlight. As his body fell, another flashed into the opening at the head of the alley. Daryl wasted no time in firing, taking out most of his neck and head.

Reaching the Jeep, Sera stepped immediately to the passenger side. "You drive."

"Keep down," Daryl refused to think about what might happen to Sera if they didn't make it out of town. _Best get through it first. Plenty of time to think later. _

Sera leaned forward and grasped the lever, putting the seat as far back as possible. Gasping and wincing, she managed to slide down onto the floor so that she could aim out her window. Daryl was already moving the sturdy vehicle in a quick clip to shield the others, and Sera was happy to see Glenn beside Rick. A large truck had been parked nearby, but sped away just as the men reached their car.

Rick ran to the driver's door, but then something caught his eye and he yelled to Glenn and Hershel to help him. Soon there were some shouts and the sounds of arguing from the small space between buildings.

Just as Daryl heaved himself out of the cab to go investigate the problem, Sera caught sight of something moving in the street behind them. As the gunfire had stopped, she drew herself up onto the seat for a better look. One stumbling figure turned into two, and then three, and then more, until more than two dozen walkers were making their way toward the cars.

"Oh, Lord." Sera pulled herself up so that she sat in the open window. Twisting to the side, she shouted to the struggling men. "Ya'll need to be movin'! We've got company comin'!"

A soft _thump _from the rear of the vehicle drew Sera's attention. A woman missing one arm and any clothing on her upper half bumped along the Jeep until the open window allowed her to reach inside. Sera threw herself across the seat and stabbed the grasping, yowling walker through the mouth and up into the brain.

A moment later, she pulled her Hulligan free of its loop and stepped out of the relative safety of the Jeep to confront two walkers who were getting close to Rick's car. Planting the sharp spike into the forehead of one, she yanked it free and spun to do the same to the second. The rest of the horde was moving steadily in their direction, but were still half a block away.

Seeing the group of walkers, Sera moved back to the Jeep before yelling at the men. "Move your asses!"

Daryl's heavy curse reached her ears a scant second before a scream ripped through the night. Soon after, the men wrestled a bleeding, crying young man out of the shadows. Shoving him in the backseat of Rick's car, Daryl jumped into Janice and began plowing over or dodging the walkers between them and safety.

"Who is that?!" Sera thought that someone must know the boy if they were taking him in.

"No clue," Daryl grimaced as a haggard old man bounced off the grill. "He was hurt. Rick didn't want to leave him hanging on a fence like bait."

Sera shook her head and slipped the bandana from around the rearview mirror free. She grunted in pain as she felt along the back of her right calf.

"What's wrong?" Daryl had noticed her limp, and wondered if her "scratch" wasn't something more serious.

"Got shot." Sera had to slam her palm against the dash to keep from bouncing her face off the molded plastic when Daryl jerked the wheel in surprise.

"What the hell?! When?"

"In the back room. That second guy." Finally finding the clean, small hole, Sera wrapped the blue cloth around it twice to secure it in place and staunch the bleeding.

Daryl slammed his hand against the wheel. "Why didn' you say somethin'?"

"We were busy, and I wasn't gonna have to run on it or nothin'." Easing her leg up onto the dash, Sera sighed. "Hurts like a sonovabitch, though."

"Keep it up there. We'll get the old man to look atcha." Daryl eased over to the shoulder at Rick's quick beep. He wasted no time in letting them know the situation. "Sera's been shot. Took a round clean to the back of the leg."

"There's an old camp off a road just up ahead. We can hole up there for the night, and I'll look her over." Hershel's voice was kind, though quavering slightly.

"Let's go, then!"

Sera chuckled at Daryl's surly response as they began to follow the other car at a slower pace. "You don't gotta be so mean."

"Oh, fuck him!" Daryl all but growled. He was worried about Sera and angry about the whole situation. "You wouldn't a' gotten hurt if he'd stayed his ass at home 'stead of runnin' off to get hammered at the first sign of trouble!"

"Daryl, baby," Sera slid over to rest her hand on his knee. "We all cope in different ways."

"He left his kids to get drunk!" He couldn't help but remember how his own father had often left him, Merle, and their mother in order to visit the local bars, and how he had reacted when he came home. "Ain't right."

"Not sayin' it was right." Sera sighed and squeezed his thigh slightly. "The man just saw his wife gunned down. Until that moment, he honestly thought she could be saved."

Daryl only hummed lowly in response and turned down the overgrown dirt road behind the dusty car in front of them.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

Sera managed to snag a bag before Daryl wrenched open her door and pulled it out of her hands. Glenn had come to see if he could help, and the older man shoved the pack into his chest. Looping an arm under her legs and the under behind her back, Daryl easily drew Sera out of the seat and cradled her to his body as he strode to the shack, leaving Glenn to shut the door and cover their backs.

"I can walk." _What is it with men thinking women need to be carried about? I can walk just fine! _Looking up at Daryl, Sera grinned cheekily. "Hulk carry?"

"Shut up," Daryl's short response drew a chuckle from the wounded woman, and she laid her head against his shoulder as he moved.

The one room cabin was a glorified shed, really, with a dangerously sagging porch and a roof that was developing some rather large holes. The windows had heavy shutters that could be barred from the inside, however, and the doors were similarly fortified. The fireplace looked to be in working order, and Rick was already laying some logs in the small opening. An unfamiliar boy sat against one wall, tears streaming down his face as he whimpered over his torn and bloody leg.

Daryl tested the wood table before carefully lowering Sera onto the solid surface. Glenn had dutifully followed, and set the bag he carried down at her hip. Sera smiled at him and reached in for the emergency light sticks she put in each bag. When soft green light illuminated her leg, she bent to see the damage and then began to point out the rations in the bag along with the small metal pot to cook them in.

Daryl removed the medical supplies and then shoved the pack at Glenn for a second time. "There's food. Cook it."

"You could be a bit nicer, you know." Sera winced as Hershel sat down in one of the two usable chairs and began to untie the now bloody bandana.

Daryl snorted and held the light over the hole in her leg. "If they can't figure out how to heat some beans and canned ham by now, they don't deserve to eat."

Sera smiled at his grousing and squeezed his hand before she began to work herself around on the table.

"What're you doin'?" He frowned down at her.

"Don't give me that look," Sera managed to lie down of her stomach so the veterinarian would have a clear path to the wound. "I'm sure Mr. Hershel would like to really see what he's doin'."

"Well," Hershel spoke quietly as he concentrated on the wound in front of him. "The good news is that I don't think it hit anything vital. She can still walk and there isn't too much blood.

"The bad news is that I don't think it should be left until morning, and the only things I have to remove it are a pair of tweezers and whatever knife is the sharpest." Hershel looked up at Sera's worried face. "We have the things needed to stitch it closed if you can sit through it, but it will all be painful, and there will be scarring."

Sera managed a watery smile through the sharp throbbing in her leg. "I'll get over it."

"Who gives a shit if it scars?" _Just proves she's tough enough to be a Dixon. _Daryl slipped a thin blade free from the holster in his boot. "This is the sharpest blade I got."

"Does anyone else –"

"Mr. Greene?" Glenn spoke up from his spot in front of the fire. "If that's Daryl's sharpest, then it's the best one we've got."

Daryl scoffed at the older man's chagrinned expression. "Just make sure ya don't screw up."

Hershel nodded and began to sterilize the blade as much as possible. "Now, if she jerks too hard when I make the incision, she could hurt herself more."

Daryl took a seat beside Sera's head and grasped her hand in his tightly. Studying the resolute look in her eyes, he leaned forward and kissed her softly. "Gonna be okay, ya hear?"

Sera gave a choking laugh. "You're learning, huh?"

"Not hard to tell you what you need to hear when it's the truth." Daryl could feel Rick and Glenn staring at him, but did his best to ignore them. _Like they haven't said stupid shit for their girls._

Hershel dabbed an alcohol pad over the ragged skin of her leg, and Sera gasped as it left a chemical scorch along the nerves and exposed muscle. When it became clear that she would be unable to remain quiet, Daryl dug a clean bandana out of the bag and wound it into a tight strip. Sera dutifully opened her mouth and clenched it between her teeth when he offered it to her with troubled eyes.

Holding the cloth behind his wife's head in one hand and her hand in the other, Daryl nodded at Hershel. Sera's quiet gasps and muffled whimpers echoed in his ears, and he forced himself to focus all his attention on her face and eyes, whispering shushing words as he would to a wounded animal. When she opened her crying green eyes, Daryl made sure that his stormy blues were there to meet them. While the process of removing the bullet took only a few minutes, he was willing to bet it had lasted an hour.

When Hershel began to ready a needle and thread, Daryl released the cloth and smoothing some curls from her eyes. Leaning down, he spoke softly in Sera's ear. "Doin' alright?"

"Peachy keen, jelly bean." Sera mustered a small laugh at his affronted visage and wiped at the sweat accumulating on her brow. "Hurts."

"I know." He shrugged one shoulder. "Be over soon."

After the gouging pain of the bullet extraction, the piercing and pulling of the stitches was a minor thing and Sera was able to undergo the process without the aid of the bandana. The boy in the corner had begun to sob when Sera was halfway through the stitching, and Daryl had slung the half full bottle of alcohol at him, catching him below the right eye. Sera simply grasped his other hand tightly and grimaced through the pain.

Another sob wracked the newcomer's chest as he watched Hershel clean up around Sera. "I need some help. Please, man! You have to help me!"

"Don't gotta do shit for you," Daryl had just watched his wife have minor surgery on a dirty kitchen table in a rundown shack. He was in no mood to be charitable to a member of the group who had fired on them. "You can be strung up outside as walker bait for all I care."

Rick had tightly wrapped the boy's leg as Hershel busied himself with Sera's wounds. Now, he looked around for something to divvy out portions of the meat and beans he and Glenn had heated over the fire. Seeing this, Daryl tore open the now empty gauze boxes and used the cardboard to put some out for the other men in the group while leaving his and Sera's in the pan to share.

"Doesn't he get to eat?" Sera felt nothing but contempt for the stranger, but she didn't want him to go hungry, either. When she only received a disbelieving stare in return, Sera frowned deeply. "C'mon, Daryl."

With a deep sigh, Daryl yanked a flat board out of the kindling box and dumped a few scoops of beans onto it. Handing it to Rick, he went back to the table and set the pan down beside Sera's prone form. She would be at an odd angle, but she would at least be able to feed herself by turning on her side.

Sera whispered a soft prayer of thanks before digging in, noticing that Daryl had pushed most of the meat to her side of the pan. "You need the protein more than I do."

"Nah, you're the one losin' blood this time." Daryl smirked at the memory of their first meal together. "I'll eat a big breakfast tomorrow."

Sera's soft giggle floated around the small shack, drawing unseen answering smiles from Rick, Glenn, and Hershel. The only smile that mattered to Sera was the one shining in her husband's eyes and he popped a bit of ham into his mouth.


	23. Morning Routines and Adventures

**Special thanks to MollyMayhem84 for pinch hitting at beta-ing this. Hello to hideher and MAR76, who apparently blew through all previous parts in one shot! Thanks for the reviews, and I hope you like this one!**

The scent of rain clung to the dusty, greying wood of the tiny hut as dawn became the whisper of a thought on the eastern horizon. While no rain had fallen in the night, the air itself seemed to breathe with a deep, rich moisture, thick with the promise of a clear, bright day. Daryl stood at a window, one shutter open to give him a view of the grey porch and the placid forest beyond. His was the last watch of the night, though there had been no movement out under the trees.

A soft shuffling drew his attention to the spot in front of the fire where Glenn had curled up as close to the flames as Rick would allow. With a nod to Daryl, the younger man dragged the duffle closer and began to survey what was left of the food stores. Bringing the familiar canister of oats from the nylon pack, he shook his head in disgust and reached for the pan they had used the night before. A scrap of cloth was used to wipe off what he could of the residue from the previous meal before he began looking over the water bottles left in the bag.

"This all we got?" Daryl spoke softly, as Sera had finally managed to doze off on the hard table just before the start of his watch three hours before. He wanted her to get another hour in before he had to wake her for food and the ride back. "Plain oatmeal in a dirty pan?"

"There's not enough water to wash it, and this is all that's in the bag other than dried noodles and some Jello." Glenn's eye slid to Sera and back to Daryl in understanding. "I'd hate for Maggie to be in the same position, you know."

Daryl pulled at the skin of his right thumb with his teeth and frowned down at the bag. "There are other bags, but I don't want to have to replace more supplies."

"This'll work for now, and there's food back at the farm." Glenn frowned slightly before his eyes suddenly lit with an idea. "Hey, what about some berries?"

Daryl raised his brows in response, and Glenn nodded excitedly but tried to keep his voice low. "I saw some beside the lane last night on the way in!"

"You pick," Daryl loaded his crossbow and opened the door to scan for walkers before handing the younger man the bandana from his pocket to hold the berries. "I'll keep a lookout."

"Hey, Daryl?" Glenn's voice was uncertain as he peeked around the door frame.

"Yeah." He didn't take his eyes off the surrounding trees. _Quiet don't mean empty._

Glenn nodded his baseball capped head to the more treacherous part of the porch. "Would you mind?"

"Huh?" The squinting frown slid over Daryl's visage, narrowing his eyes and tightening his jaw.

"Dude." Glen rolled his eyes. "I need to visit the can."

"You wan' me to be on guard duty while you take a piss?" _Why the hell didn' he just say so?_

"Well, I haven't gone since yesterday, and if something's going to bite me..." Glenn seemed to be embarrassed for some reason Daryl didn't understand. "I'll do the same for you."

Daryl nodded and stepped off the porch so he could scout out the side of the dilapidated hovel. Seeing it was clear of anything but waist high weeds, he jerked his head at Glenn and then turned his back to survey their surroundings and give the other man the illusion of privacy. A moment later, he was given the all clear and he simply took care of what he needed to do by relieving himself where he stood. After years of being more comfortable outside rather than in, he almost preferred things this way.

The gathering went quickly, and the two men stepped quietly through the door as the rosy fingertips of dawn tickled a lover's hello at the vast underbelly of the night. Sera was still asleep on the table, resting her cheek against a pillow made of Daryl's discarded poncho and frowning softly until Daryl ran a rough palm lightly down her spine. Rick and Randall (he had weepily told them his name the night before while Hershel bandaged him up as well as possible) were snoring lightly while Hershel slowly straightened from putting another log on the fire.

"Can an old man ask one of you a favor?" Rubbing at his lower back, the greying man nodded toward the door. "I need to take care of something, and I won't be doing it with a lady present."

Daryl readied his crossbow and motioned the old farmer ahead of him before speaking to Glenn. "Get on that food. Need to be movin' 'fore Olive Oyl decides to send someone else out lookin' for us."

Glenn read the instructions on the oatmeal and emptied two of their remaining four bottles of water into the pan to boil. He wasn't surprised when Sera began to stir and opened her eyes groggily. "Good morning, Princess."

Sera giggled softly. "I'm a princess now?"

"Well, the rest of us had to sleep on the floor while you got the tower bed." Spying Daryl pacing the porch with his unconscious predatory grace, Glenn smirked. "And if any man's going to be considered a knight in this new world, it's your husband."

Sera smiled lightly at the thought and began to push herself up to sit on the table, murmuring a quiet thanks when Glenn lightly took her arm and helped ease her feet to the floor. Putting weight on her injured leg caused it to throb dully in response, and she knew it would be a day or two before she was able to hobble around without help. Right now, however, there was the more pressing issue of working the kinks out of her back and neck. Bending her right knee, she rested it on a chair and began to stretch.

Daryl had heard their voices, though he couldn't make out what was being said. When he entered, however, his greetings died on his lips as he took in his wife's _pandiculations_beside the table. Her arms were above her head, her back arched in a lovely contortion of bone and muscle. The movement pulled her shirt high on her midriff, and her tattoos stood in stark relief on her skin, made even more pale and lovely by the soft grey light of dawn filtering through the cracks and holes in the roof.

A rustle in the corner drew his attention, and he clenched his teeth when he caught Randall's eyes open and focused on Sera's movements. Slinging his bow over his shoulder, he closed the distance between the door and table in three steps. Sera's green eyes shone in pleasure at seeing him, her small grin warming him in a way that made his head swim. Slipping his arm around her waist, he appreciated the way her head rested against his chest while he helped her limp to the door without being asked.

As he supported her weight and let her hobble to the door, Daryl cranked his head around and locked his ice cold eyes onto Randall's. Aggression pumped out of him in waves, everything from the set of his jaw to the flexed strength of his biceps an unconscious warning to every other man in the room. While she was aware of the sudden shift in Daryl's mood, Sera was ignorant of the unwanted attention she was being paid.

As they crossed the threshold, Sera frowned up at Daryl. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin'." Away from the stares, Daryl had a hard time justifying his reaction to Randall's behavior.

Sera leveled a gaze up at him as they moved to the closed side of the house. "Doesn't seem like nothing."

Daryl growled lowly before he helped her shimmy her shorts and panties down to her ankles, careful to avoid the stitches and trying not to let on just how much her body affected him. "Don't like the way he's lookin' at ya."

"Who?" Sera tried very hard to pretend she wasn't peeing in front of her new husband who was looking all around them for trouble as he grasped her hand to help her balance all her weight on her left leg.

"That little asshole." He growled low in his chest as he wondered briefly why Sera's voice sounded so wavering and embarrassed. "Why are you blushing? You like him lookin'?"

"What?! I'm using the bathroom in front of you. Of course I'm uncomfortable!" Sera snorted in disbelief and began to work her clothes back into place before she continued her questioning. "What should it matter what he looks at when I'm **married** to you?"

Daryl tilted his head slightly and his eyebrows drew down in confusion. "Everyone pisses."

"So you don't like being affectionate in public, but peeing in front of others is fine?"

He chewed lightly on his thumbnail and shrugged. "**Everyone** pisses."

Sera snorted at his interesting way of looking at things and shook her head. "I love you. Now, tell me why the kid lookin' at me was pissin' you off."

"Ain't nothin' stoppin' ya from leaving if you've a mind to." Daryl shrugged and focused his eyes on the small tattoo of a fish with a sandwich in its mouth that rested low on Sera's left ankle. "What if you decide you want ta be with him?"

"That skinny little mealworm?!" Sera's voice held all the disbelief and humor she could muster. "Why the hell would I want to take up with a boney little kid like him when I've already got such a well built and powerful man like you?"

"But you fed 'im."

"Daryl baby,' Sera wrapped her arms around Daryl's neck and drew him down for a soft hug. "Just because I don't want someone to go hungry or be in pain doesn't mean that I want to be with them."

Daryl nodded against her shoulder and let the sound of her giggle at the feel of his stubble settle his nerves enough to speak. "You sure you want to settle for a jealous, dumbass redneck like me?"

"When you're in the room, I don't even see anyone else." Sera planted a soft kiss under his ear and squealed in delight when he looped the arm not carrying his crossbow around her waist and lifted her effortlessly.

"Let's get some food and get back to the farm. Got plans for you later." Daryl carried her up the steps and into the shack. Just as he stepped through the door, he looked up at her with his brows raised. "Why do you have a fish eating a sandwich on your ankle?"

Sera gave a throaty laugh, happy that Rick had finally woken up and that breakfast was being divided out. "That's Pudge, the fish."

Glenn's laughing voice was thick with oatmeal as he spoke up from across the room. "He controls the weather."

"What?" Daryl looked from Sera and Glenn to a chuckling Rick, not enjoying being on the outside of something that was obviously common knowledge for a lot of people.

"It's from a Disney movie," Rick explained. "_Lilo and Stitch. _Carl watched it nonstop for nearly three weeks straight. It drove Lori and I crazy, but that's what kids do."

"Why are you talking about a stupid tattoo?" Randall's reedy whine reminded Sera of a cat's dying yowls. "Shouldn't we be getting back to wherever you're staying? I need help!"

Daryl let Sera slide to her feet beside the table before he turned to the young man. "Ya oughta be happy we don't stake your ass outside to distract any walkers while we leave, you little shit!"

When Randall didn't respond, Sera settled into a chair and motioned to the inside of her left ankle where a small blue creature was sitting reading a book to a couple of curious, small, yellow ducklings. "That's Stitch."

Daryl understood that the book tattoos meant something to Sera, and couldn't see why a Disney movie would get the same treatment. "So why would you get that one?"

"Because Pudge is just fun. Stitch was a creature that didn't belong anywhere and who no one wanted until a little girl came along and made him part of her family." Sera's lips slid into a soft, nostalgic smile. "Family isn't necessarily something determined by blood. It's something you make with people you care about."

"'Ohana means family'," Glenn nodded. "'And family means nobody gets left behind'."

Sera grinned and finished the quote. "'Or forgotten."

Glenn finished distributing the oatmeal while Rick excused himself to use the bathroom, looking at Sera and Daryl oddly when the breakfast of oats and blackberries drew a giggle from the redhead. She only shook her head at his questioning look and kissed Daryl's cheek softly. Daryl shook his head at her antics and scooped half his share onto her piece of wood.

Sera sighed and scooped that half and a bit more onto Daryl's makeshift plate. "You said you'd eat big this morning."

"You're such a pain in my ass."

Sera's answering chuckle was the last thing heard as the group dug into their meal.

After breakfast, there was a short, intense debate between Daryl and Rick as to the fate of Randall. While Rick wished to take him back to the farm for Hershel to perform surgery, Daryl thought they should take him back into town and put him back on the fence. Sera put an end to the argument by pointing out that the group as a whole should make the decision, and that her leg was beginning to throb.

_Men_, Sera mentally rolled her eyes as Daryl helped her into the passenger seat of the Jeep. _Not a one of them wants to be wrong or admit that they have no idea what the hell they're doing!_

Daryl made sure she was as comfortable as possible before he turned to the others. "We got room for the Chinaman."

"What?" Glenn swallowed nervously.

"Really wanna ride with them?"

Glenn glanced at Rick and Hershel before clamoring around the Jeep to slide in behind Sera. "Hey."

Sera giggled. "Decide to join the cool table?"

"Hershel makes me nervous, and Rick has to keep an eye on Randall." Glenn shrugged and fiddled with his hat.

Daryl was just sliding into the driver's seat when Sera twisted to look at Glenn over her shoulder. "So you and Maggie, huh?"

Glenn smiled sheepishly and locked his eyes on the back of Sera's seat to keep from meeting her eyes. "Yeah, I guess."

"She's a sweet girl."

"She uh. . . She told me she loved me before we left." Fiddling with his cap, Glenn gazed out the window as they began to move.

Sera frowned at his uncertain tone. "Yeah? And what did you say?"

"Nothing. I know she didn't mean it."

Daryl looked at the younger man in the rearview mirror. "What the hell 're you talkin' about?"

"She just **thinks **she loves me. I could be anyone." Glenn shook his head. "It's just a reaction to the walkers and everything."

Daryl snorted intelligently "Bullshit."

"Huh?"

Daryl glanced between the young Korean in the mirror and the redhead in the passenger seat. "If a woman says she loves you, and is willin' to put up with the bullshit you do, you hold on to her. To hell with anything and anyone else."

Sera's palm itched to reach out to him, but she remembered Daryl's dislike of displaying affection in front of the others. She settled for smiling at her husband and giving him a wink as they sped down the red dirt road away from the cabin. They would be at the farm soon, and she had a feeling the morning was going to be long and hard.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

The arcadian farm was just as they had left it the day before, its untouched fields and the house with gleaming white paint spoke of a world full of peace and innocence. After the events in town, and remembering life before coming to the farm in the first place, Sera shook her head and resolved to be more on her toes. Preparing to deal with walkers who only thought to eat was one thing. Being shot at by complete strangers proved to her without a doubt that not everyone with a pulse was better than the dead.

"Think you'll need to go hunting?" Glenn spoke quietly from the back seat. "One more mouth to feed now."

Daryl scowled at the back of Rick's car. "Little asshole can eat the scraps and be happy for 'em."

Catching sight of Carl and Sophia running from the woods, Sera smiled. "Might not have to hunt, anyway. Look."

The two men followed her pointing finger and chuckled at the vision the two children made. Carl ran with his hand hovering over the silenced gun at his waist, as if he had been doing so all his life. He had a rope looped over his right shoulder the way Sera and Daryl had shown him, three rabbits slapping against his hip and thigh. Sophia's long legs easily kept pace with Carl, her eyes bright in the early morning light. Her line of four squirrels and two raccoons was looped and tied along the chest strap that held her quiver in place.

"You've taught them a lot," Glenn's voice held a spark of wonder.

"Well, they really pay attention and want to do it right."

Daryl nodded silently and pulled to a stop beside their tent. He didn't see a point in driving all the way to the house only to have to help Sera back down to rest. Hershel would have his hands full with the kid, and Sera only needed some antibiotics to stave off infection.

When Glenn hopped out of the backseat and hesitated slightly when he caught sight of the farmer's daughter standing on the porch, Daryl shook his head slightly. "Go on, now. No time for bullshit and stupidity these days."

"You think?"

"Grow some damn balls and man the hell up, already." Daryl shook his head and jerked Sera's door open to help her down. "Startin' to make the rest of us look bad."

Glenn nodded slightly and clapped Daryl on the shoulder as he passed. If he noticed the older man tense slightly at the foreign, friendly gesture, he didn't show it. He focused on Maggie as he crossed the distance to where she paced on the covered porch.

"That was sweet," Sera smiled softly up at Daryl as she began to limp around the front of the car.

Daryl rolled his eyes and muttered darkly before Sophia and Carl came to meet them after delivering the boy's gun at the RV. Sera only giggled and rolled her eyes at his antics before she looked to the kids in expectation.

"Look!" Carl held his rope out to be inspected. "I'm getting better at snares!"

Sera whistled softly in exaggerated appreciation. "That's awesome, Carl."

"Give 'em here," Daryl held his hand out to Sophia expectantly. When she placed her string in his much larger hand, he turned each one appraisingly from side to side. "Pretty clean shot. That's good."

Sophia's face lit as if from an internal spotlight. "Thanks! I still miss sometimes, though."

"Don't worry 'bout it so much. Happens."

Carol and Lori came up to them before Sophia could respond. Both women looked with indulgent happiness at their children before focusing on Sera and Daryl. Lori looked up at Sera with large, worried eyes.

"Rick said there was trouble in town and you got shot?" She rubbed absently at her stomach, and Sera wondered if everyone now knew about the baby.

"Yeah," Sera felt herself sagging against Daryl's broad shoulder. When she would have moved away, he pulled her more securely into the cradle of his arm. "Got caught in the leg."

"Then she ran on it like a dumbass."

Daryl's snarl brought out frowns of disapproval in the other women, but Sera merely rolled her eyes. "And what should I have done?"

"Lettin' me know you were hurt woulda been a start!"

Sera pulled away slightly so she could turn and look him in the eyes. "And what would that have done, other than worry and distract the rest of you?"

"Coulda helped you." His scowl softened into a frown of concern.

"I'd let you know if I needed it."

Daryl shook his head. "No more runs for you."

Sera snorted and fell back on her mother's usual response when unwilling to discuss something in public because it would end in a fight. "We'll talk about it later."

"Doc says you need to stay off your feet and rest." Scooping her up as if she weighed nothing, Daryl nodded at the others. "Later."

"But we need to help clean the –"

"They got it." Daryl kept walking, sitting her down only to open the tent flap and usher her inside.

As soon as the tent was zipped behind them, Daryl took her down onto the bed of blankets and padding. His growl was as rough and impatient as the hands pulling at her hair and clothes. _Could've lost her out there._

"Daryl?" Sera was bewildered and a bit worried by the nearly crazed look in her husband's eyes. It was as if he weren't really seeing her, but some unnamed horror. "Daryl, baby, what's wrong?"

"Almost lost you," Daryl's mouth was buried in her neck, his words a mumbled mess. Pulling back, his eyes burned into hers. "I **cain't **lose you. Ain't nothin' without ya."

Understanding his need to reconnect, to know with absolute certainty that she was there, Sera leaned up and brought her mouth against his. His chest rumbled in approval as he gentled his hands and drew her close, gathering her up against him instead of clutching at her in a half mad desperation to have her under him. Sera was in no mood for slow and gentle, however, and began to nibble and bite at his lips before nipping sharply as Daryl's neck and shoulder.

"Not gonna be slow, girl." He could feel his fingers digging into her hips as he slid them under the waistband of her cut off shorts, but he couldn't seem to stop them. "Need it to be fast and hard."

Feeling wetness flood from her core at his words, Sera arched prettily for him. "We'll do slow and easy later. Just please fuck me?"

At her plea, Daryl shoved her shorts down, only then remembering her sturdy boots. Nearly ripping the laces getting them off, he slung them carelessly behind them and then watched as she kicked the denim free. Catching the wet material of her panties in two fingers, he shoved it to the side and latched his hot, demanding mouth onto her. Lips and tongue worked her over before he became impatient.

There was a soft _snick _of steel on leather, and Sera forced her eyes open against the pleasure to watch as Daryl's large, menacing hunting knife slipped between the fabric and the skin of her hip. A sharp tug and the cotton split like a warm spoon through ice cream. The sight and feelings had Sera shivering in lust and need, and she wrenched a pillow from beside her to bite down on.

"Need ya ta come fer me," Daryl mumbled against her slickness. He was being driven by some base instinct that demanded his woman have at least one orgasm before he was inside her. "Ya have ta before I slide up on ya. Fucking **need **you all over me."

Sera whined low in her throat and let her injured leg come to rest over his shoulder while Daryl slid his large hands under her to hold her center to his lips.

There was no preamble, no soft touches or hesitant flicks. Daryl was a man on a mission, and he drove her hard. She came once with a scream against the pillow, nearly jackknifing off the ground. Before she had a chance to slip into the endorphin high of such an orgasm, Daryl shifted his weight and ran two fingers gently over her before sealing his lips on her clit and roughly sliding two fingers deep inside her to feel the pulsating of her smooth muscles.

Sera's buildup was slower this time as Daryl hunted for and found a spot deep inside her that had her toes curling while her arms suddenly forgot how to function. She thought to reach out for him, but suddenly couldn't remember how to, and so her hands began flinching and contorting as her arms jerked beside her head. When Daryl tilted his head slightly to open her further to his ministrations, his teeth nibbling slightly at her nub before his tongue roughly took over, Sera just managed to clasp the pillow to her lips as she shrieked her pleasure.

When it became clear that Daryl was settling in for a third round, Sera began arching against him and pulling at his hair. "Dare."

"Busy," his mumbled response would have made her giggle if it didn't set off a small, fluttering release.

"Can't," Sera gave a gasping protest. "Need you in me."

Daryl attempted to think of her pleasure as he wrenched his clothes from his body, occasionally leaning down to lick at her. "How ya want me?"

"Any way ya want," Sera gasped and twisted under him, knowing with absolute certainty that she would die if he wasn't inside her soon. "Just **please**."

Remembering her reaction the night they were married, Daryl urged her onto her stomach with hurried hands before reaching for the box of condoms beside their bed. Rolling the latex sheath down his length, he leaned forward to sink his teeth into the firm flesh of her shoulder. When Sera threw her head back in shocked pleasure at the sharp pain, kicked her knees as far apart as he could, angled her hips up, and drove deep into her welcoming heat.

Sera buried her face in the pillows and blankets as she screamed her pleasure and satisfaction at being so full of his hardness. When he withdrew slightly only to slam into her once again, Sera's world contracted. The world and all its problems disappeared six inches from their pallet of blankets, and only Daryl's teeth, hands, and cock working her over proved she existed at all.

"Need ya to come again, Sera." Daryl's voice was an almost frightening snarl as he planted his fists on either side of her head, his lower body jackhammering into her.

"Oh, God," Sera began to quiver as she wrapped her small hands around his wrists to help hold herself in place.

"C'mon. I wanna feel that wetness of yours all over me. Wanna know you're mine."

"Fuck yes, I'm yours." Sera gasped the words before biting down on the pillow and pushing back against him. The next second, lightening sizzled along her back and legs as she came.

She felt Daryl slide out of her, flip her over, and then he was back before she could complain about his absence. He was growling low in his throat as he stared into her glazed eyes.

"Still with me?"

Nodding bonelessly, Sera felt another wave of burning ecstasy begin to swallow her whole. Pulling Daryl close, Sera bit down on his shoulder and felt her nails sinking into the flesh of his back. He only moaned and moved faster in response.

"That's it, baby." Sera purred her approval at his rough treatment. "I want you to fuck me 'til you come."

Sera was right on the edge of another cliff of pleasure when Daryl wrapped his hands around her hips and began the jerking movements of a man about to come. Needing just a bit more, Sera pulled his head close to the flesh of her left breast.

"Bite."

His teeth were immediately there, and her nails scored his back as she bit her lip against the pleasure of being Daryl's woman.


	24. Easy in the Summertime

The soft Georgia rain danced a gentle waltz along the roof of the tent as Daryl slowly came awake in the grey half-light of evening. There was a light breeze fluttering through the open windows of their shelter, bringing with it a relief from the humidity of the day and the familiar smell of a late summer campfire. He watched a moth flit lightly around the ceiling as he allowed the feeling of Sera's head on his chest and her arm around his waist to soak into his flesh and bones. He wanted this scene to be burned into his memory when things got rough. The sight of her using his chest as a pillow was worth all the heartache and pain it took to get to this one irenic, perfect moment.

Sera sighed in her sleep and rubbed her cheek against the dark hair on his chest, her hand sliding from around his waist to rest in front of a mouth still swollen from his kisses a few hours before. The remnant of his bite on her shoulder was a deep purple, and he knew it would cause her some discomfort in the days to come, though he was unable to dredge up any remorse as he remembered her exultant reaction to his teeth in her flesh. Each carnelian curl of her hair sliding along his side and thighs was a thousand fingertips as he languidly stretched against her, smiling slightly and humming in contentment.

Sera's emerald eyes slowly blinked open to meet Daryl's, the cobwebs of sleep still clinging in the corners of her mind like Spanish moss. Once she was able to focus on his face, Sera's crinkled brow smoothed and her smile was an anchor that drew his attention to her mouth and held it there. When her head quirked to the side in confusion and she would have spoken, Daryl shook his own slightly and drew her up so they were face to face, her chest resting on his own.

Her hair was a fiery curtain around them as they lay connected from chest to where her toes rubbed against his upper shins. Daryl marveled at how tiny she felt against him. Her presence filled any space she was in until he sometimes thought she was ten feet tall and bulletproof. In reality, she was just over five feet tall, making him feel like a giant as he cradled her against him.

He began to run his hands down her back and over the swell of her hips and ass under the frothy billow of her curls. When his fingertips broke through the thick mass to graze blunt nails and callused pads down her spine, Sera gave a breathy, erotic moan against his mouth. Daryl responded by placing long, slow licks at the roof of her mouth, loving the way she opened for him and gave herself over to his ministrations.

A choir of crickets and tree frogs began a soft country love song as Daryl angled Sera's head back and began trailing his lips and tongue down her neck and over her shoulder. Moving slowly, Daryl rolled to pull Sera under himself on the mound of blankets and pillows. When she sighed and fit her left leg around his waist, he let it rest there wordlessly. Open mouth kisses and slow slides of his tongue over Sera's collarbone and sternum brought with them the heady taste of her salty skin. As the taste and scent of his wife bloomed below him, Daryl could not hold back a quiet moan of delight as he drifted down to take her right nipple into the warmth of his mouth.

"Oh!" Sera's breathy gasp went straight to Daryl's head, and he growled a quiet approval. When she moved to bring him into the cradle of her thighs, however, he shushed her and moved his hips away slightly.

"Wanna make this last," he mumbled against the flesh he was teasing with lips and tongue. "Slow and easy, remember?"

When he finished speaking, he nibbled at the rose tip of her and chuckled his own breathy laugh when she arched into him. "Love that. Wonder if I can make you do it again?"

Before Sera could form words, Daryl switched sides and began the process of working his lips and tongue over the turgid flesh of her left nipple. Just as she began the fidget against him, he bit down faintly and twisted her other tip with his fingers. When she arched against him again, Daryl hummed his approval while he ran his muscular right arm around her back to rest his hand between her shoulder blades and pressed her chest more firmly against his lips.

Sera's giggle at Daryl's actions died on her lips as he really settled into the task of paying homage to her breasts. There was a familiar heat and tingle coiling deep in her abdomen, and she was a bit surprised that she was reacting so strongly to nothing but his mouth and hands on her fleshy mounds. When he continued his attentive actions for nearly twenty minutes, she began to whimper delicately and sank her fingers into the hair beginning to trail over the nape of his neck.

"C'mon, girl, just let go. I gotcha."

He took her nipples in both hands and began licking at the bite mark on her left breast, tiny pricks of pain blooming and melding with the pleasure of his touch until Sera was lost to the sensations. The slowly rising tide of pleasure finally became too much for her to contain, and it washed over her head in a gentle ebb and flow so that she gasped and twisted her fingers in his hair. Daryl could feel the movements of her muscles where he lay against her, pride swelling within his chest at the feeling. That he had managed to make her find that amount of enjoyment without touching anything below the waist proved to himself that he was a more than proficient lover.

When she moved her legs to his waist again, he swatted them lightly and put them back on the ground. "Not yet."

"Dare –"

He stopped her words with his tongue, feeding at her lips with his own. His teeth nibbled softly at her lower lip before he pulled back to meet her eyes. "Shut. Up."

When Sera smiled softly and nodded an assent, Daryl grinned in return and began kissing and licking down her sternum and over her sides. His right hand spanned the space between her hipbones with little room to spare, and he made a mental note to make sure she ate more. Before he could get too wrapped up in his inner musings, she twitched away from his questing mouth with a soft giggle.

Rolling his eyes up to her face, he caught the exact moment she realized that he knew she was ticklish. Her eyes grew comically round, her head began slowly shaking from side to side, and she pushed ineffectually at his hands. When those hands began to dance over her flesh, however, she quickly dissolved into peals of laughter and unladylike snorts as she curled into a ball before his eyes.

This presented the womanly dip of her waist and the curve of her hip, and he couldn't help but to lean down and nibble over the freckles scattered there. Sera gave a moan and began to straighten once again as she eased onto her back, and Daryl ran his tongue over the flat front of her hip. When she groaned quietly, he sat back on his knees and brought his right hand up to gently pet at her slickness. Not hard enough to bring her release, but just enough to feel her heat and wetness.

Sera began to feel exposed and vulnerable as Daryl sat back and followed the movement of his hand with burning blue eyes. While he was obviously – and deliciously – aroused, he seemed removed somehow. Sera was willing to do many things for and with him, but being a science experiment was not one of them. "Daryl, what-"

"Sshhhh, sweetheart," a silent plea danced in his eyes as he focused on her face, his hand unmoving against her now. "I just wanted to. . . Can I. . .

"Aw, hell." Daryl was suddenly unsure of his actions, not enjoying the confused and slightly withdrawn look in her eyes. Drawing away from Sera, he sat back on his heels. "We both know I don't know what I'm doin' here."

Sera was abruptly aware that he was acutely uncomfortable, that he was trying to make love to her when he was obviously more experienced with one night stands and fast sessions in the cab of a truck. While his ability to bring her off with simply his attentions to her breast was revelatory to her, he had nothing to compare it to and thought he was doing something wrong when it was really only her own self-consciousness to blame.

With this realization came the thought that this would be a first for Daryl, and she was brought nearly to tears that her moment of uncertainty had tainted the experience. She had been the one to mess up, so she had to do something to fix it. One fluid motion brought her up against him, her lips and tongue initiating a sensuous dance with his.

Breaking away from the kiss soon after, Sera moved to lie back, leading Daryl's hand back to her moist heat as she resettled on the pallet. "Didn't say you should stop."

"You sure?" Daryl's voice shook heavily, though his hand did not stop its hesitant movement.

Sera nodded. "Just felt a bit out on a limb for a minute."

Daryl leaned forward and kissed her deeply as his hand moved softly and slowly against her seeping core. "Don't worry 'bout it. I ain't goin' nowhere."

Sera groaned low in her throat and felt her knees drop open further when the pad of one of his fingers slid ever so slightly between her nether lips. His warm, rough callus grazing along her sensitive skin had her tilting her head back and arching into the feeling. Daryl chuckled softly, male pride once again seeping through the tent, and began placing open mouthed kisses along the smooth expanse of her thigh.

_How the hell can she smell so __**good**__ all the damn time?_

Only when Sera's hands began to slide over her stomach and up toward her breasts did Daryl stop watching the soft, teasing movements of his hand. Slipping a single digit into her dripping core, he watched as she writhed for a moment before bending over her and taking one of her rosy tips into his scorching mouth. Sera's quiet gasp and the resulting rush of wetness against his hand were proof enough of her enjoyment of his ministrations. Just as Sera began to whimper and moan quietly, Daryl added another thick, rough finger to his efforts, and her eyes blinked open.

As soon as she focused on the man above her, she felt the familiar tightening in her core pulse and release. The orgasm wasn't explosive or noisy, it didn't have her screaming or clawing at Daryl, but it was so amazing in its quiet, unassuming way. _Just like Daryl. _ Sera's lip twitched in a slight smile as the thought came.

With a soft moan, Daryl began tracing an invisible pattern over the freckles littered along the skin of her inner right thigh. The little gasping laugh she attempted to stifle told him that it both tickled and felt good, and he did nothing to fight the desire to slide the flat of his tongue from knee to the juncture of her thighs. As her left leg hooked over his shoulder, he captured her knee with a sure hand and gave that side the same treatment. Gripping Sera's hip with his left hand, Daryl held her immobile while he brought his mouth down to lick at the source of her wetness with creeping, whisper soft movements.

Sera attempted to push closer to his mouth, earning nothing but a soft chuckle for her efforts. Her voice was a husky sigh as she settled into the feeling of his hand controlling her movements while he slowly got to know her most intimate of places. "Oh, Daaaaaaaarrrryyyllllllllll."

"Like this?"

Sera let his voice and the vibration of his words against her tingle over her nerve endings and nodded slightly against her pillows. "Yeah."

"Just like this, huh?"

Sera whined in the back of her throat. "Harder."

"Nah," Daryl shook his head just enough for her to feel the movement of his stubble against the sensitive skin of her thighs. "Think I'm gonna enjoy you just a lil' bit longer."

His name fell from her lips like a psalm, and Daryl slowly inched his middle finger into her at such a slow pace that Sera was barely able to feel the movement. His tongue never stopped its steady, teasing strokes as he gently began to pull out of her heat and press back in. When he sealed his lips around her swollen bundle of nerves and began a deliberate, measured dance against it with his tongue.

Being with Daryl this way felt like the time she had been slipped Ecstasy at a college party, but with a focus for her lust and pleasure. Every bit of her body was awash in the soft euphoria of endorphins and pleasure, yet there was more flooding her bloodstream with each passing moment. It was as if Daryl had somehow taken the need to orgasm out of the equation and left her with only the chemical rush and was then able to multiply that feeling with any of his calculatedly breathtaking measures.

When another wave rose up to gently roll her under, Sera felt as if she were surrounded by the most pleasant warmth. Her breathing hitched softly, and her spine slowly warped away from the floor as she let go. The world was all soft edges and muted colors as Daryl led her through the first orgasm and into another.

Daryl was transfixed by the sight and sound of Sera gradually unraveling before him. Her quiet moans and sighs let him know he was going a good job of things, and he found that pleasing her was a process of trial and error, though no mistake or unwanted gesture was derided. With Sera, it was all about praising the positives until Daryl was certain he would be able to please her without any instruction whatsoever.

When Sera came with a gasp, it was his name on her lips.

She reached down and held Daryl's hand still against her after she was able to focus once again, letting the warmth of his hand anchor and quell her.

Keeping her eyes locked with his, she reached blindly for the box of condoms, somehow managing to retrieve one before pushing Daryl over onto his back.

"What-?"

Sera shook her head and leaned in to kiss him slowly. "Shhh, baby. I just wanna taste you for a while."

Daryl groaned at her words, spreading her hair around them like a cloistering veil. Sera's lips on his forehead felt like a benediction, her soft hands stroking along his chest over his heart a consecration. Warmth and love radiated from her very presence, and Daryl knew that, despite the summer afternoon his grandmother had taken him to the creek and had him dipped by her pastor, _this _was his real baptism. If Seraphim could exist and love him, then there was a God.

Sera was slipping the condom down his length when she caught sight of something she never thought she'd witness. A tear rested at the corner of Daryl's eye for one heavy heartbeat before it spilled over and disappeared at his temple. His eyes held wonder and so much love, however, that Sera was unable to place why he would be crying.

"Daryl?" All else forgotten, Sera slid up to cradle his face in her hands. "What's wrong, baby? You okay?"

Daryl rolled then, pulling her beneath him and spreading her thighs with one of his own. Recalling her words on their wedding night, he echoed them back to her.

"I'm perfect. With you, I'm perfect."

As he slowly pushed inside her pulsating heat, Daryl knew what heaven felt like.


	25. Guardian Angel

"**Blue Eyes" is by Jill Andrews. The verse Sera mentions here is Psalms 100 (King James Version), and is another thing women in my family do a lot. **

A tranquil calm eased Daryl into consciousness, his ears registering the sough of the trees sighing in a light summer breeze. He lay cradled to Sera's naked breast, her fingers running gently through his hair and tracing indistinct patterns across his shoulders and spine. Their legs were laced together, his thigh pressing against the heat of her, most of his weight resting on his side so that Sera was surrounded by his bulk and warmth without being crowded or crushed. There was a soft, rhythmic mumbling under his ear, and he wrapped his arms more securely around her middle as he listened to her sing quietly in the vague light of the predawn world.

God gave you your eyes and made them blue  
And your daddy's too  
God gave you a heart and made it strong  
Because he knew the hours could be so long  
God gave me these arms so I could hold you  
So let me hold you  
It's all I want to do  
God gave me these ears so I could hear you  
Say the things that truly are so dear to you  
And you got me for all time  
Always and forever, right beside  
And you've got me for all time  
Always and forever, right beside

You  
I have seen the ocean in your eyes  
Your big blue eyes

Her voice was clear as crystal, and twice as lovely as a spring morning in the mountains. Even when she sang something he had heard growing up, she put something different into it so that a little of her people's backwoods swagger peaked through, flirty and exuberant. When she finished with a soft kiss to the crown of his head, Daryl allowed himself a stretch and a yawn.

"Like when you sing."

"That's probably a good thing, since I do it a lot." Sera extended her arms and legs in the same manner as Daryl, sighing as her spine aligned itself with quiet sounds of protest. "My mom was always singin' too."

"Yeah? Why?"

Sera nodded and began gathering clothes together for the day. "She sang to babies, she sang nonsense, or about whatever we were doing at the time. Then there were church songs and mountain airs."

Looking to him, she sighed at the picture he made propped up on one hand, only the light blanket thrown over his hips to guard against the slight chill. "She used to quote Psalms. 'Serve the Lord with gladness: Come before his presence with singing'."

He gave an embarrassed, gasping chuckle. "It's nice."

Daryl grinned slightly as he watched Sera step softly through the large tent, obviously attempting to lessen aches in her back and hips. A map of his teeth was laid out on the back of her shoulder, and she hissed slightly as her deep grey sports bra fit down over it. There was a replica of his hand on her hip in shades of blues and greens, and she chose a light, flowing skirt that wouldn't bother her stitches and allowed the barest hint of color to show above the waistband. Her tank top was not particularly low cut, but he knew the feathering bruise from his bite on her breast would be a bit visible by mid afternoon.

Sera turned as she pulled her shirt into place and caught something raw and primal in her husband's possessive, proud smirk. "What?"

"Like the way yer dressed."

Sera snorted and shook her head. "Like makin' me a marked woman, huh?"

"Hell yeah." Daryl stood and began the process of dressing himself for hunting. "Like people knowin' yer mine."

"But how will they know you're mine?" Sera grinned at the wrinkle that formed on his forehead. "If I give you something, will you wear it?"

"Ain't one for rings or anythin'." Curious, Daryl felt his face assume the scowl that usually accompanied uncomfortable situations. "They get caught on shit."

"What if I gave you something adjustable, that is also replaceable?"

"The hell you goin' on about?"

Sera chuckled quietly, pulling a thick curl over her shoulder and braiding it quickly. Securing it with two tiny rubber bands, she used her sewing scissors to snip the section free before moving to stand in front of Daryl. Wrapping it around his thick wrist, she adjusted it until it was tight enough not to sag or snag, but he had full range of motion.

"There." Sera's beaming smile tugged a soft grin from Daryl's lips. "Now, no other girl will think you're available."

Flexing his wrist to test the feeling and get used to its presence, Daryl smirked. "Bit possessive, aren't ya?"

Sera's laugh twirled out around the tent until those already awake outside were smiling in return. "Yer damn right, redneck."

Daryl slid an arm around her waist and drew her in for a deep, slow kiss before he finished getting dressed. The thin twist of fire at his wrist caught the slowly rising sun in its waves.

O:O:O:O:O:

"Are you sure no one would mind?" Sera followed Beth up the stairs to the back hallway.

Beth smiled shyly and used a long pole with a hook to snag the thin door leading to the attic. "No one else knows how to use it, and Momma wouldn't want it to go to waste."

Daryl had taken Carl and Sophia out into the woods, using Sera's injury and inability to effectively hunt as an excuse to evaluate the teens' hunting abilities. Having finished the mending, and with nothing new to read, she went to help the others with their chores. After laundry was washed and dishes gathered together, the farmer's youngest daughter had mentioned that their mom had left a large amount of yarn and supplies that no one else knew anything about, and offered to take Sera up to look through it all. Now, she stood below the dim opening feeling a bit intrusive.

Too many unexpected encounters with walkers had Sera drawing Daryl's knife from her waist as she limped up the thin stairs, but the single room was empty of anything more frightening than some cobwebs. Beth followed her up and opened the curtains on the few windows. The morning light revealed some boxes and a few project bags overflowing with colorful skeins and balls of yarn.

Sera fought the urge to tear into it all like a child at Christmas and turned to Beth. "Did you want to go through it with me?"

"No, thanks." Beth sighed heavily. "I think I'll go help with our laundry. Is it okay with you if I put the steps up so I don't have to dodge them? They'll push down from up here easy."

"No hun, that's fine." Sera watched the younger girl leave and waited for the door to close before she settled down in front of the nearest window.

Taking a deep breath, Sera began going through the nearest project bag. One look at the cerulean alpaca and wool blend, and she knew what she would be using to make Daryl's hat, warm and soft for a hunter used to coarseness and discomfort. There were multiple skeins of hand dyed sock yarn in various colors, and Sera made a mental note to double knit the heels and toes so they would last longer. The rest of the bag was full of scrap yarns, so she emptied those into a nearby plastic shopping bag and put the more readily usable yarn inside the project bag. The next project bag held more bits and pieces, so it was emptied into the plastic bag before she moved on to the first box.

The small box was stuffed full, and Sera allowed herself a gentle smile at the light blues, pinks, greens, and yellows clearly bought with babies in mind. Below the dozens of baby yarns, soft and washable, there were even a few pattern books for bonnets, booties, and little sleeper sets. She knew some of the yarn would go to making little sleep sacks to keep the new Grimes baby warm and swaddled in its first few months. The bottom of the container was populated with buttons and ribbons that would go well with the yarns, so everything went into the first project bag, though she shuffled everything to keep Daryl's yarn on top.

The next box had once held a large tube television, and was bursting with nothing but skeins of rich, warm wool. Noting that adding cables would double the warmth of anything made with the material, Sera decided to take the entire box. When winter set in, they would need warm clothes to guard against the freezing rain and snow that occasionally descended upon Georgia.

The rest of the cartons were likewise filled with cottons and even a few luxurious silks, with the last containing hundreds of pattern books and magazines. Sera decided that it would have to be sorted and packed away in the cars that had some room, to guard against it all being lost if they had to leave the farm. She would need help, however, and moved to stand when a muffled shout from outside drew her attention.

O:O:O:O:O:

Daryl nodded slightly as Sophia brought down her sixth squirrel of the trip. "You usually get them in the eye like that?"

"Sometimes," she shoved her hair behind her ear for the hundredth time that day, and made a note to ask Sera to teach her how to braid it back. "Either there or in the head and shoulders."

Carl was content to keep an eye out for walkers as they moved through the woods, occasionally leaning down to study tracks or set a snare. When they drew close to one of his traps, he would quickly check them and either take the animal and reset the wire or decide to move it.

Daryl's observant eyes took this in as well, and he commented on Carl's quickly improving abilities. "Nice work."

"Thanks. Sera says I'm learning really well."

"She's right." Daryl nodded slightly. "Ya both 're doin' a lot better."

Sophia beamed up at him, and Carl gave a huge grin. Daryl was suddenly uncomfortable with the attention and looked to the sky to measure time. "C'mon. Gotta get back if we're gonna have this ready to cook for supper."

Carl tried to follow Daryl's line of sight. "What time is it?"

"About 2:00. We've been out here for about four hours."

Sophia skipped lightly over the ground in front of them in much the same way that Sera moved. Daryl watched her tracks, noticing that she left little evidence of her path. Sera had taught her well.

"How can you tell?" Sophia's light voice was honestly curious and not bratty at all.

Daryl gave a slight shrug. "Just do. You'll learn it too, bein' out here as much as ya' are now."

Sophia giggled and turned to face them as they drew closer to the farm, motioning to her left. "You mean like knowing that way's north?"

"Yup." They were close now, and Daryl nodded. "Chickadee, you go grab some knives and the buckets. We'll clean 'em over here."

Handing her line to Carl, she disappeared around the tents to do as he bid with a quiet "Yes, sir."

Daryl was turning to let Carl know that they would set up on a fallen tree when a sharp, small scream had him wheeling around and sprinting toward camp before the sound had died from the air. Carl was two feet behind him, silenced gun drawn and held up and at the ready. The sight that greeted them when they came around the tents drew them both up short.

Everyone on the farm was sitting in a loose group, hands tied tightly behind their backs. Glenn's lip was punctuated by a sliver of bright blood, and Herschel's right eye was swollen until only a thin sliver of eye could be seen between the distended, red and purple flesh. Rick and Shane wore mutinous frowns, both glancing at a sobbing Lori who was sporting a bruise on her jaw. No one else appeared hurt, though it wasn't hard to see why they cooperated. Beth was sitting on the ground in front of a newly freed Randall, who was holding a black handgun to the back of her head. Sera was nowhere in sight, and Daryl wondered briefly if she was safe.

Sophia's quiet sobs drew Daryl's eyes away from the amassed group and toward the dark man holding a beat up Ruger .22 to her temple. The little blonde's large brown eyes spilled over as she looked at him, as if she knew there was nothing he could do. Carl made an angry sound low in his throat, and Daryl wrapped a restraining hand around his small wrist. Without being told or looking behind him, Daryl slowly drew the guns from Carl's hand and waist and laid them down on the grass against the nearest tent before doing the same with his own weapons.

Randall spoke up from his post against the clothesline. "He's the hunter I told you about."

"Don't forget the knives, Andy." A third man stepped out of T-Dog's tent carrying an armful of supplies, a knife at his hip and a crossbow on his back. His sallow face and milky eyes were haggard and tired, but alert. He moved quickly, though, and Daryl knew from experience with Merle that whatever drug he was on at the beginning of everything had leached out of his body long ago.

"Gonna need that knife, too." Andy's voice was thick with thirst and whiney in a familiar way.

A glance between him and Randall told Daryl they were related. Most likely brothers. A vision of what he would do if Merle was held captive flashed through his mind, and he felt himself become very still.

"The knife," the younger man motioned toward Daryl's belt. "Now."

When he hesitated, the hammer was pulled back on the Ruger. Sophia whined low in her throat, and Daryl slid his eyes to Rick's. When the deputy barely shook his head, Daryl understood that Sera was still free. Taking a deep breath, he drew his knives from his belt and laid them with the guns.

"Hey, sweet thing!" Beth and Sophia both jumped at his shout, but it was the older girl that started moving. "Come tie these two up."

"Hey, hick!" Randall grinned, his obvious enjoyment clear on his face. "Where's your girl?"

Daryl's sniffed heavily and spat the results at the younger man's feet. "Went huntin'"

"Alone?"

"Yeah." Daryl grinned evilly. "Don't get the big game with people hangin' around."

"Randall, shut up." Andy motioned to Beth. "Get to it, bitch."

Beth's blue eyes swam as she followed orders, whispering quiet apologies to Carl as she secured his wrists as loosely as possible, tugging his pant leg down over the small knife Sera had given him when she worked on his ankles. Daryl moved slowly, his blue eyes alert and watching for the moment Andy was distracted or the other stranger was within reach, but the other man neither took his eyes off Daryl's, or his gun from Sophia's head. Beth apologized to him as well, and he could see bruises forming on her neck and arm.

"Sera was in the attic." Beth's lips barely moved as she pretended to have trouble with the rope. "They didn't know to look there. Carl has his ankle knife."

Daryl kept his mouth closed but caught her hand to squeeze it lightly in thanks. _Not like I can talk right now._

Andy pushed Sophia roughly toward Daryl. "Her, too."

Carol whimpered in fear, and Beth quickly led Sophia over to her mother without looking at the antagonistic men ordering her around. Securing her quickly, Beth attempted to sit with Hershel and Maggie, but Andy stopped her and called her back to his side. With a mocking grin, he grasped her arm and drug her against his chest.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

Sera looked out the window to see Randall leaning against the clothesline. _What the hell is that little piss ant doing out? _As she watched, an unfamiliar man stepped into view, holding Beth against his chest. From where she crouched, Sera couldn't see every detail. However, she could see that her friends as well as Daryl were sitting unnaturally together. A third man came out of a tent and stood between the other two. Looking around, she quickly realized that her only weapons were the knife Daryl had given her and some knitting supplies.

"Well. . . Shit."

_Why didn't I know something was going on? _

Sera tiptoed to the steps and listened closely before deeming it safe to push them down. They lowered quietly, and the house was silent in the afternoon light. She glanced in each room as she passed, but none contained a threat. By the time she was downstairs, Sera's heart thundered against her ribs and her palms were slick with sweat.

When she reached the front door, her skirt twirled around her ankles, and she gave a silent prayer of thanks that her father had thought to teach her in skirts as well as pants. _"Assholes don't give a shit what yer wearin'." _ She adjusted her hold on the knife and looked out the window carefully.

The men were now shouting back and forth, their backs to the house and most of the tents. If she could make it to the camp without being seen, she hoped to find another weapon. She sprinted to the backdoor, throwing it open and then skirting the open area until she reached the closest tent. Peeking through the small window flap, she saw that it was in total disarray.

Dismissing it, she stepped lightly around the other structures until she reached the last one. Easing her head around the side, she spied Daryl's Horton leaning against the heavy canvas material, a bolt notched and ready. Randall and Hershel were yelling at each other as Beth whimpered and shrank away from her captor. Knowing what she had to do, Sera began to ease forward.

O:O:O:O:O:

"Uh, uh, uh, pretty girl." Andy made a show of nuzzling against her cheek and then her neck as she cringed away. "Always did like blondes."

"Get your filthy hands **off **my sister, you piece of horse shit!" Maggie began struggling against her bindings, surging to her feet before Randall leveled his stolen gun at her face.

"Now, Maggie," Randall shook his head. "Is that any way to talk to an old school chum?"

"What?" Maggie's eyes darted from Randall to her sister and back again. "I don't know you."

"We went to the same school. You were a year ahead of me." Randall smirked and glanced at Andy. "Remember the barrel racer I told you about?"

"Ah, the girl you had such a crush on." Andy's left hand began brushing over Beth's hip and side as he spoke. "That her?"

"Hell yeah it is." Randall ran his eyes over Maggie's athletic body, swiveling his hips at her suggestively. "Think we can make her ride me like she does those horses?"

"Hey now," the third man made his way out of Carol's tent and came to stand between Randall and Andy before the older brother could answer. "Who says he gets the brunette? I came back lookin' fer you two! I oughta get **somethin'** fer my trouble."

"Hell, Johnny, if hair's all that matters, take that skinny little bit of nothin'." Andy pointed toward Lori, and she started whimpering and scooting back toward Rick. "You could probably bend that bitch in all **kinds **of ways."

Rick moved forward quickly, pushing Lori behind him with his shoulder and speaking quickly. "Now, let's all try to remain calm. There's no reason for anyone to get hurt."

Shane's shouted threats were accompanied by Glenn's worried attempts at placation. Daryl didn't bother with words, instead using the distraction and fighting to begin moving closer to Carl's right leg. He wasn't sure who else was carrying, and he knew the boy's knife was still at his ankle.

Dale's voice echoed over the din. "You boys don't have to do this!"

"What'd you know about it, old man?" Andy squeezed Beth's waist harshly, his fingers digging into her flesh and making her cry softly. "It's a dying world. We gotta take what we want now. No time for bein' nice 'bout shit no more."

"God will forgive your past misdeeds if you repent them." Hershel's voice shook as he spoke up in the hopes of saving his daughters. "Please do not make things worse for yourselves by doing these things."

"I ain't worried about God, you dumb fu-"

Randall's voice cut out as one of Daryl's bolts lodged itself in his temple. Andy and Johnny wheeled around in surprise. Beth, utilizing a move Sera had shown her and Sophia when they were practicing, stomped on Andy's insole. When he loosened his grasp in shock, she sprinted to her father, curling against his aging chest and sobbing hysterically as Maggie laid her head against her shoulder. Glenn worked himself over in front of the small family.

Sera sunk down until her weight was distributed on the balls of her feet, fighting a cringe at the pulling in her stitches as Andy faced her. "Should've been worried 'bout me, you pathetic little quab."

All at once, the men seemed jolted into action. Rick rolled up onto his knees, fighting to get the attention of the interlopers. Shane's barking voice machine-gunned over the crowd, a mix of explicatives and demands. T-Dog and Dale were calling for reason and discussion.

Daryl chose to use his energy in another manner, wrenching Carl into a better angle and torqueing his head around to look over his left shoulder. Finally freeing the small knife from its concealed sheath, Daryl twisted the blade around until he was holding it against the rope. With small, sure movements, he began sawing through his bindings. Watching Sera and the men in front of him, he just hoped he was fast enough.

_Don't drop that knife, you asshole. Can't leave yer girl up there on her own like this._

"That was my brother, you fuckin' cunt!"

Andy smirked before raising his gun and firing. His aim was off, and the bullet grazed her bicep. Her flinch and shout of pain failed to garner further damage, as the old, neglected gun immediately jammed. Throwing it to the side with an enraged shout, Andy drew his knife to mirror his friend.

Rick and Shane were falling over trying to reach the melee about to take place while Daryl continued to saw at the nylon bindings. He wanted to shout at the men, but was worried that he would distract Sera at a bad time. Glenn began talking to Beth, trying to get her to listen to him and start untying them.

Sera refused to pay attention to the abrasive language when her arm was already bleeding with a burning throb. "And you messed with my family, motherfucker."

The two men came at her as one. Raising her knife over her head, Sera rushed Andy, forcing him to hurry backwards away from the blade. Backpedalling quickly, she brought her hand down to her side, reversed the handle and embedded the blade up through Johnny's lower jaw and into his skull.

Andy was back within reach, and her blade was not coming out easily. Throwing herself away from the body, she put some room between herself and Andy. When he came at her again, she grasped the wrist of the hand holding the knife, guiding it past her body. Elbowing him in the throat, Sera watched helplessly as his knife flew out of his hand and disappeared over the tent. Eyes locking once more, the two combatants slowly began to circle each other.

Spotting Carl's guns a few feet from where she had seen Daryl's crossbow, Sera tried not to give her intentions away before diving for the weapons, but a dusky olive arm shot out past her and grasped for the gun as well. Sera rolled to her back and planted a foot against his shoulder, shoving him away from both herself and the guns. She yelled out as the stitches in her leg ripped savagely, a torrent of blood flowing down her leg and staining the grass.

Daryl's left hand was suddenly able to move much more freely! He began franticly pulling at the binding on his wrists, his short nails and sweating palms doing little to help.

Andy, paying no attention to the group's actions, threw himself at Seraphim. He tore at her skirt and raked his nails down her leg as his hands slid through the blood. Finally pulling her away from their shared goal, he wrapped his hands around her throat and planted a knee in the small of her back. He had a moment to wonder why she wasn't fighting back before she sagged below him.

As he chuckled through his panting and began to draw away, Sera's head whipped back. The rear of her skull caught him squarely across the bridge of the nose, the answering crunch and curse of pain drew a savage smile from her lips. Linking her left arm under his right knee, she spun to the side and dumped him on his back. Before he could recover, she landed a sharp punch to the area directly between his legs.

Daryl's hands were free and he began ripping at the ropes around his ankles, cursing and growling to himself. Rick and Shane were sitting with their backs to Dale and T-Dog, the deputies keeping an eye on the action while trying to hurry the others along.

Struggling to the side, Sera pushed off with her injured leg. The sharp throb that answered let her know that her adrenaline was flagging, and she tried to focus on the task at hand. Andy pulled himself over, army crawling after Sera.

Her hand made purchase on the butt of Carl's gun just as she felt a hand close over her knee. "Kids! Eyes closed!"

Andy rose up over her, Daryl's discarded knife in his hand. She did not hesitate when she leveled the pistol at his forehead and pulled the trigger.

Staggering to her feet, shocked to find that tears were streaming down her face. "You **Do. Not. FUCK. **with my family."

Daryl freed himself with a final, savage curse and ran to Sera's side. Without a word, she sank into the warmth and safety of his arms. As the others began to chatter excitedly, she tucked her head under his chin and sobbed quietly.

**Return of Seraphim, the badass.**


	26. Walking Without Ease

**Sorry this took so long. It was difficult to write, which annoys me, lol! HUGE thanks to ChooseJoy for the help/beta job. LOVES YOU!**

**Princess-of-thieves6, I hope this works for you.**

**MollyMayhem84, thanks for putting up with my oddness during playoffs.**

Looping a muscular arm under her knees, Daryl pulled Sera down into his lap as he sank to the ground, astonished to suddenly find himself lying flat on his back with her held protectively against his heart. He could feel the warm wetness of her blood seeping through his shirt and pants, paying no attention to the sounds of the others around them. Her quiet sobs hanging, crystalline, in the air before shattering into a million blades through his chest.

_She's okay. She's okay. She's okay. _Daryl clutched her closer, pressing desperate, firm kisses to her temple and curls. He began humming quietly, a song his grandmother used to sing when his father had left more of a mark than usual on his young body.

The feeling of Sera sobbing against him was a relief and condemnation. She was alive, her wounds rather superficial though still bleeding profusely. That she had been hurt at all was a dark spot on his heart, an abhorrent, black, pulsating cancerous mass that beat at him with every sob his tiny wife choked out against his shirt.

_Fuckin' piece of shit. Good fer nothin'. Dixon. You let this happen to her, you asshole. _Daryl wanted to push her away, to keep her from being harmed. Relief, horror, and sadness roiled within him, churning up a lifetime of inadequacy and shame. Women had never fared well with the Dixon men. _Don't know why I thought she'd be any better; that __**I'd **__be any better._

"Daryl?" Sera's tear-choked voice shook him from his thoughts, her sobs moving into more gentle, fluttering gasps for breath.

He had to cough to clear the lump in his throat. "Yeah, Catchfly. 'M here."

"I killed 'em, didn't I."

Daryl hugged her close and grunted quietly with the effort of sitting up. "Some people just need killin', baby. Ain't nothin' to be done 'bout that."

Sera nodded against him and whimpered slightly. The adrenaline had leeched from her body, leaving her shaking and aware of everything. While the deep cuts barely ached, every scrape and scratch felt like a lemon-bathed paper cut. There were bruises forming on her arms and legs, and she knew she had pulled more than one muscle.

"Is she okay?" Carol and Sophia reached them at the same time, stepping close and looking around. "Are we sure that's all of them?"

Daryl grunted. "Got some bleeding, but she'll be okay. They'd of shown themselves if there were more."

A towel clutched in a thin hand appeared a moment before Lori stepped slowly around the couple. "Here, for that leg."

"Thanks." He let her hold it to the wound while he looked over the chunk missing from Sera's arm. It was still bleeding freely, but didn't appear to be too devastating.

"There was a – a gun at – at my boy's head," Lori's chestnut waves fluttered as she shook her head and regained some composure. "I don't know what I'd do if –"

"I know," Sera patted the other woman's shoulder and winced at the scratchy sound of her own voice. "Keep it together in front of them, though, okay?"

Lori gave a choking laugh and nodded, wiping the tears from her face with her free hand and straightening her shoulders. "You're right. Carl hates when I cry."

"What about Rick?" Sera felt a bit guilty about using Lori to distract herself from both Daryl's evaluations of her injuries, and the pounding headache taking up residency at the base of her skull.

Lori shrugged and looked at her from the corner of her eye. "He's like most men. No clue what to do with a crying woman."

Sera's giggle came out dry and rattling, her hand moving to rub at the shadows of Andy's hands around her throat. "Ow."

"Hey, Doc!" Daryl's bark made Sera jump and drew the attention of the now freed group. "Little help?"

Hershel eased away from his sniffling daughters, casting a grateful look with his uninjured eye at Glenn as the younger man wrapped his arms around Beth and held her tight while Maggie petted her white blonde hair. "Patricia will have to do the stitches this time, but I can see well enough with one eye to look her over."

Carl stepped around Daryl and retrieved his guns. "Should I put these in the RV?"

"I think I may be re-evaluating my stand on firearms on my farm." Hershel shook his head. "Need to be prepared for anything, I suppose."

Rick looked over the camp. "Dale's gone for the duffle. Shane and I will clear the house. T-Dog, and Jimmy; you do a search of the farm, make sure it's secured. Find their keys, get their car, and bring it back here.

"Glenn, I want you and Dale on watch. Slow circles around the camp and house until we can come up with something better later on."

Sophia chewed at her bottom lip and then squared her shoulders. "I'm takin' watch, too."

Rick rubbed at his forehead and frowned, his right hand resting on his hip. He knew she had been working with Daryl and Sera, but was obviously reluctant to okay a young girl walking around with the possibility of armed rapists on the farm.

"Me, too!" Carl checked his pistols and stood as tall as he could beside Sophia's diminutive form.

"They can go with me," Andrea had retrieved a shotgun and checked it for ammo. "We'll move between the house and camp, so we're close if Carol and Lori need any help with dinner, or if someone pops out of the woods."

"That okay with you?" Rick looked to Carol and Lori, his eyes resting on his wife's hands securing the towel to Sera's calf.

Carol nodded at her daughter. "You stay with Andrea or come to me at the fire. Nowhere else."

"Same for you," Lori cast a shaky smile to the antsy boy. "Don't make me regret this."

"I won't, mom," Carl's eyes rolled dramatically as he sighed, causing the adults to chuckle quietly. "I can do this."

"I know you can, baby," Lori gave a watery smile. "It's just hard on a mom sometimes."

Carl nodded and pressed a hasty kiss to her cheek before walking away with Sophia and Andrea, the brown deputy hat bobbing along with his foot falls.

O:O:O:O:O:

Rick and Shane cleared the house quickly. When Daryl was certain that it was secure, he moved Sera into the now familiar guest room. Hershel looked her over, deeming antibiotics and painkillers necessary before Patricia moved into the room carrying the needed items to sew Sera's wounds. Seeing the bottles of medications, Sera frowned up at Daryl.

"Do I have to take the painkillers?"

Daryl frowned and looked to Patricia. "She gotta?"

"Well," the older woman frowned lightly in thought. "You don't **have** to, but from the sound of your throat and the look of those bruises and cuts, you should take some for at least the first day."

"I get sick on Demerol." Sera remembered vividly the time she was given the drug after being kicked by her neighbor's horse. The vomiting had lasted for nearly four hours after taking a single, low dose, and had only made recovery worse.

Patricia nodded and continued readying the sutures. "This is Dilaudid, so we'll just have to see what happens."

"Here," Daryl shook out what she should take right away and handed them to her along with some water. "Don't want you bein' in pain if you don't have to be. Shouldn't have been hurt at all."

There was pain in his voice; a recrimination and upheaval that revealed an uncertainty and self-hatred left behind by years of being inadequate in the eyes of his father and society. While Sera longed to pull him into the safety and comfort of her arms, she knew that he would not appreciate such actions while in the company of others. The pain meds would only act to fog her mind completely and make meaningful communication an impossibility.

"I don't do well with any painkillers I've ever taken. These'll put me out for a while."

Daryl sat down next to her on the bed, keeping himself out of the nurse's way. "Not goin' anywhere 'til I know you're okay."

Sera swallowed the pills and settled on her stomach, hating that she had to be stitched again. The antiseptic was cool on her inflamed skin, and she jumped a bit in surprise. Daryl's hand was her anchor, and she clasped it tightly once again. The answering squeeze let her know he was there with her, but his eyes were troubled and shadowed with the ghosts of his past.

Taking a chance, Sera waited until his cobalt gaze met hers. "This isn't your fault, you know."

He grunted in response, staring as her skin was rid of the first set of now useless stitches before being wiped clean in preparation for the new threads. The scar would be longer now, more angry than before. He would never be able to gaze upon that part of her body, or the skin of her upper arm, without knowing that he had failed her.

Sera opened her mouth to further make her point, but was suddenly unable to remember what she was going to say. The bed on which she lay was suddenly to most soft surface she had ever felt. Daryl's form was shrouded in an indistinct, light fog, so that he was all soft edges and muted colors. The ceiling light, just visible from the corner of her eye, was now a haloed and misty streetlight on a rainy evening. Her hand clung to her husband's, though it applied less pressure than a falling leaf.

As she watched, Daryl's head moved slowly to the right, as if he had heard something behind him. Rick appeared over his shoulder, as if melting out of the creamy paint of the wall, and Sera couldn't contain her soft giggle. Their soft words were indistinct, muddled together and stretched apart until they reminded her of Charlie Brown's parents.

Daryl's troubled eyes were the last thing she saw as the drugs finished their job and sent her into the arms of Morpheus.

O:O:O:O:O:

Daryl stormed through the underbrush, headless of the animals scurrying out of his way and uncaring of any attention he may draw to himself. T-Dog and Jimmy had not been able to locate the attackers' car by doing a quick search of the highway, and Daryl had turned to the woods instead. If the two men had followed them to the cabin and then lay in wait until they left for the farm, they could have taken note of the location and then come through the forest. Now, he thundered through the bracken and brambles, intent on finding the evidence of their presence and removing it.

_May not have been able to keep her safe before, but no one tracks like a Dixon. _Daryl had started at the shed where they had kept Randall and easily found their trail. Following their clumsy steps easily, the hunter kept his eyes open and ears alert for trouble.

A few miles from the farm, through the woods and past a meandering creek, a station wagon sat abandoned on the side of a quiet country road. The tracks ended there, the doors locked and windows raised. With a quick glance around, Daryl pounded on the window behind the driver's seat with a rock until it shattered. Clearing the glass with the butt stock of his crossbow, he gained entry and reached forward to open the front door.

Merle had taught him how to hotwire a car for his tenth birthday, and Daryl quickly ripped open the steering column below the wheel. The mass of wires came into view easily, and Daryl glanced around, taking note of three walkers shuffling in his direction from behind the car. Finding the two red wires, he stripped them quickly and twisted them together, nodding as the engine sputtered and caught. Adjusting the seat quickly, he turned the car and aimed directly at the dead things moving along the road, absent of their usual moans and all the more frightening because of it.

"Fuckin' walker pieces of shit." His foot pressed harder on the gas pedal, the first set of thumps doing little to assuage the seething anger and self-loathing.

Braking hard, he parked hastily and stepped out of the car. Two jogging strides brought him close to the first walker, a man with a beer belly and teeth that had been rotting well before he died. Daryl's mind supplied the olive skin and dark hair of Randall to the corpse as the stock of the crossbow made contact with its softening skull again and again. The second walker, a woman with her dyed hair cut in a long bob and dangling, gold bracelets on her wrists gave the now familiar gurgling moan as she reached for Daryl's arm.

"Get the hell offa me!" Putting all the power he could into the movement, his right fist connected with her chin. When she was forced back, Daryl grinned menacingly and slid the strap of his crossbow over his shoulder before drawing his knife. "Yeah, let's go, bitch."

O:O:O:O:O:

Pale grey light suffused the room as Sera's eyes blinked against the lure of the medications. Things were still a little vague, but not as dreamlike as they had been before she succumbed hours earlier. Daryl slumped in the chair by the window, the skin of his left thumb held firmly in his teeth as he stared out the window, seeing nothing. As she watched, his head shook slightly and focused on a spot of carpet three inches in front of his dirty, fraying boots.

"Dare?" Her voice was still raw and scratchy, but his eyes snapped up to her face. He was moving to pour her some water from the pitcher before the sound had died from the room.

"Drink this." He helped her take a drink and then sank down on the bed next to her hip.

Sera cleared her throat, wincing at the stabbing pains. "This sucks."

"I'll have my shit out by the time you're out of here, an' I'll stay away from ya." Daryl worried the tip of his tongue with his teeth, swimming eyes focused somewhere in the corner of the room. "Won't bother ya none."

The meds were wearing off, and Sera clenched her teeth against the pain. "The hell 're ya talkin' about?"

"You don't need a good fer nothin' like me." Daryl shook his head and let his eyes skate over her. "Ya need someone who can take care of you."

"You take care of me just fine!" Sera latched on to his left wrist, holding on tightly to the skin above her braid of hair. "Sometimes, I'm going to have to look out for you, too. That's what a relationship is."

"**I SHOULD BE THE ONE IN THAT BED!**" He lurched away from her and too his feet, the drywall giving way under his fist as he punched the wall.

"Okay," Sera nodded and eased her back up off the pillows. "So, you're saying Sophia should be dead."

Daryl blinked at her through his scowl. "What?"

"They had a gun to the girl's head, right?" Sera began to inch her way across the bed.

"Yeah." Daryl was distracted by her movement. "What the hell are you doing?"

Sera didn't stop moving as she looked up at him through eyes darkened with pain. "I'm your wife. I go where you go.

"If you had tried to fight when you weren't tied up, Sophia would be dead, and probably Carl, too." Sera nodded dramatically when he tried to shake his head in denial. "Yes they would, and you know it. Do I wish that hadn't happened? Yes. Would I do it again if I had to? Hell yeah. Life isn't perfect, baby, and we just have to do our best with what we've got."

"But,"

"No."

Daryl growled low in his throat, leaning over to scoop the small redhead up into his arms and placing her in the center of the bed. "Lay the fuck down, woman!"

"Why? Shouldn't I ignore any added circumstances and just do what I think a woman should do?"

"Ain't the same," his eyes were a deep, restless blue as he leaned over her on the bed.

"Yes, it is." Sera's tapered fingers reached to play with a lock of his hair, tucking it behind his ear. "I love you and want to make sure you're safe and well. That's the way it works."

"But, I should've –"

"No," Sera rested her fingers on his lips, surprising him into silence. "You aren't allowed to blame yourself for any of this. I don't, and no one else does, so you aren't allowed to even think about it."

Daryl studied the determined glint of her big green eyes and the pinched, irritated set of her lips before heaving a sigh. "How do I not?"

Sera drew him down against her chest, sighing contentedly as his weight settled against her. "You just need to realize that you are my man, and that I know you will always do all you can to protect me. It's just that sometimes, there's nothing you can do."

"Don't like it." He felt himself relaxing as she drew lazy patterns over his neck and shoulder.

"You don't have to like it, but it's still life." Sera shifted her legs and grunted quietly.

Shifting to sit up, Daryl grinned. "Know something I **can **do."

"What's that?"

"Make you take your damn pills." Reaching for the cup of water and two pills resting on the nightstand, he handed them to her and watched closely as she carefully took both easily.

Sera frowned. "Going to sleep a lot."

"I'll be here when you wake up, Catchfly." Daryl settled into the bed and drew her up against his side so that her throbbing arm was cradled safely on his chest and the aching warmth of her calf rested across his shins. "Get some rest."

"Okay, baby." Sera fought a smile at his soft scoff at the endearment. "Love you."

"Yeah, yeah." Daryl smirked. "Love you, too."


	27. Aftermath

Daryl watched the gray light fade into the blackness of night as he cradled Sera's battered body against his own. He stroked her hair, the barest pressure over the conflagration of molten curls. He had removed the bloody, tattered skirt after she fell asleep; despising that someone had torn the light cotton while hurting her. With little else to do, he couldn't turn his mind away from the image of Sera crawling and struggling in the dirt, of his inability to come to her aid.

_Fuck that, _Daryl had snarled mentally while sliding his knife under the waistband of her skirt and cutting it free. _Not happening again._

Sera slept, unmoving, until the early hours of the next morning, her bladder telling her it needed to be emptied, and that it wasn't particular about where as she was when it happened. Inching her hand under Daryl's wrist, she eased it up and away from where it had rested on her waist. As she slowly inched away from the solid warmth of her husband, his arm snaked around her once again, and she froze under the uncomfortable pressure on her abdomen.

"Where ya goin'?" His sleep filled grumble was like sand over marble, and it drew a sigh of contentment from her lips.

"Have to pee."

Daryl nodded once and then placed a kiss against the back of her head before rolling onto his back and sitting up. Standing beside Sera's side of the bed, he leaned forward and drew her to him and up into his arms. "C'mon."

"Woah," the world bobbed dangerously as Sera was lifted. "Do you have to stay in there with me?"

"Nah," Daryl chuckled and shook his head. "I'll wait outside in case you need anythin', though."

"Where're my clothes?"

Daryl scowled and lowered her to the floor. "Skirt was trashed."

"'Kay." Sera gripped the side of the bathroom sink as her feet touched the floor. The first step had her curling forward in pain as her arms, legs, back, and sides all protested the movement in unison. "Oh, sweet baby Jesus."

"What?"

"Think I pulled every muscle I own." Not bothering with the door, the extra movement needed to turn and close it suddenly not worth it; Sera leaned her shoulder against the wall and worked her panties down to her knees. There was a polished metal bar screwed into the wall, and Sera knew she would have to use it in order to stand back up.

Daryl eased the door shut on the image of Seraphim hobbling to the toilet, turning to keep his eyes busy wondering around the room. _Why the hell does it have to be night? Need somethin' to kill. _When he heard her softly call his name, he stepped back into the room. The sight before him stopped him short.

Sera leaned on the wall with her panties still around her knees, breathing heavily. "Can't pull 'em up."

"I gotcha," Daryl's hands were as soft as he could make them as he slid them over her thighs and drew the cotton boy shorts back into place. "Let's get you back to bed."

"Can walk." Sera let her hand sliding over the wall guide her as she took two plodding, clumsy steps toward the door while rubbing at the base of her skull where a roaring throb threatened to rip her apart.

Daryl waited until her legs wobbled like a new fawn's before he eased her back into his arms and off the floor. "Just let me take care o' ya."

"You're so bossy." Her excruciating head and aching body conspired against her, turning her sarcastic comment into a petulant whine. Daryl's quiet chuckle had a fleeting smile dancing over her lips as she rested heavily against his shoulder.

"Don't be so stubborn, and I won't have to be bossy."

"Dare?"

"Yeah, sweetheart," he carefully settled her into the welcoming warmth of the bed before moving around to his side.

"I have a hurt." The pain gave a nasty pulse from what felt like every cut, bruise, and distended muscle. Without thinking, she had fallen back into the childish speaking patterns of her youth.

Daryl chuckled and retrieved another dose of the painkillers and antibiotics. "Take these, and get some sleep. We'll see how you're doin' in the morning."

Sera swallowed the medications and then sighed heavily. "Already know how I'm gonna feel in the morning. I'm going to hurt a lot more than I do now. The second day's always worse than the first."

Daryl chuckled lightly and watched as she attempted to find a comfortable position in which to lie. Folding one of his pillows in half, he eased her onto her side and slid it between her knees. Gratified by her sigh of relief at the easing of her lower back, he settled in to watch over her as she drifted to sleep once more.

O:O:O:O:O:

Sera lost the next day in a desultory fog of pain and medications. Daryl left the room only while she slept, and then only long enough to retrieve some clothes from their shared tent and help with cleaning the animals Carl and Sophia brought in. He had Maggie sit with her in case she roused while he was gone.

Hershel recommended she continue the meds through the second night, but begin only taking them if necessary the next day. Daryl made sure Sera nibbled some toast and sipped some broth before plying her with more Dilaudid and tucking her in. He had found a comfortable tank top and his softest pair of boxers for her to wear as pajamas, and she spent the night quietly tucked against his chest.

The next morning blew in on a red dawn, the sky a bloodbath splashed amid foreboding grey clouds. Daryl pressed a reluctant kiss to Sera's temple and stepped out of the house to intercept the two children and their deputy watchman. He knew there would be another storm blowing in, could feel it in the clicking of his right knee and the weight of the air on his tongue. They would need to move fast in order to bring in enough food for everyone to make it through the day, and he didn't want Sera to go without – as he knew she would – in order to feed the children and a pregnant Lori.

Jerking his head in a nod, Daryl greeted Rick and smirked at the other man's grin. "Mornin', Mr. Fife."

Rick chuckled at the _Andy Griffith _reference and shook his head. "Mornin'. What's the plan?"

"You three check the snares and then go west; it's away from any roads and should be relatively clear of walkers with the deep ravines." Daryl jerked his head to the left. "I'll take the east. See if I can't bring down a duck or two from a pond I saw the other day."

"Mr. Daryl?" Sophia's fairy bell voice drew all eyes, and a blush tinted her cheeks from the attention. "How is Sera doing?"

"Hurt. Tired." He lifted a shoulder in a helpless shrug. "Gonna have to start eating real food today. Needs to get her legs back under her."

The three nodded and parted ways, Rick resting a baseball bat on his shoulder while the others checked their lines and rubbed sleep from their eyes. Daryl watched them move for a moment before pivoting. Tossing a wave to Dale on the RV and the two women tending the fire, he moved into the forest and let the familiar quiet seep into his chest.

Sending up a quiet request for a peaceful, successful hunt, Daryl chuckled to himself. _Girl's got me _prayin' _now? Probably have me singin' and shit 'fore too long._

Readying his crossbow, Daryl moved as swiftly and quietly as a deer through the late summer humidity.

O:O:O:O:O:

Sera woke on a sharp throb of pain, her leg jerking involuntarily as it protested the lack of narcotics in her bloodstream. Her head felt foggy and a bit too large for her shoulders and she eased up to sit on the side of the bed. Daryl was nowhere to be seen, and a quick glance out the window at the grey, boiling clouds told her why.

"Have a safe hunt, baby." Sera whispered into the sounds of midmorning. Turning her eyes to the ceiling, she smiled slightly. "See him through safe, huh?"

After taking care of her body's needs, Sera thought to pull her hair up or braid it away from her face, but quickly realized that her arms wouldn't bend that way without protesting loudly. With a sigh, she slowly moved around the room, gathering together anything Daryl had brought to the house from their tent. Thankful the pile was small, she left it to sit on the table as she moved to strip down the bed. This was how Maggie found her when she stepped into the room, carrying a tray of eggs and toast.

"What the heck are you doing?"

Sera smiled at the younger woman. "Don't like leavin' a mess."

"Then don't leave. You're still in a lot of pain."

"Need to move so the muscles can stretch and work through some of it."

"Here," Maggie sat the food and water on the table and urged the protesting redhead to sit down. "Eat a bit first. If it stays down okay, I won't fight you about going back."

"And if it doesn't stay down?"

Maggie smirked. "I'll tie you to the bed and let Daryl deal with you when he gets back."

Sera shook her head and took a small bite of the eggs. "Now, that's just dirty."

The brunette blushed and spluttered a laugh. "Just eat, ya perv."

"_I'm _a perv? _You _said it!"

"Whatever, just eat already." Maggie rolled her eyes and finished cleaning the room while Sera ate.

The eggs settled into her stomach like a small twenty pound weight, but they didn't rebel and try to escape, so Sera deemed herself fit enough to slowly hobble back to camp. She knew she looked a sight with her hair dancing and tangling in the growing breeze, the curls even more riotous in the growing humidity. Daryl's boxers were rolled a few times to help keep them on her slender hips, and her boots had been nowhere in sight. The bruises littering her translucent skin seemed to capture the grey green light, garnering attention and drawing sounds of sympathy from Carol's expressive lips.

"Oh, Sera!" Carol hurried to help the clearly struggling girl while Lori relieved her of the few items she carried. "Let's get you to the tent to lie down."

"Tired of lazing about," Sera winced and let the older woman support some of her weight as they moved to a chair Dale held steady for her beside the fire. "Gonna rain soon."

Dale fiddled with his hat and squinted into the woods, as if he could conjure the hunters simply by looking for them. "Do you think we'll be able to get some cooking done before it hits?"

Sera looked around carefully and then pointed at a copse of trees. "We won't need them to if we move the fire over to between those trees."

Lori's hands paused in the process of pulling her hair into a ponytail. "I don't think the trees will stop that much rain."

"No," Sera let her cotton filled head rest back on her shoulders. "But I can show you how to use some clothesline and a tarp to build a roof."

Shane stepped out of his tent and to the fire, just in time to overhear the end of their conversation. "Why didn't you show us that last time it rained?"

"Because you were being assholes and whiney bitches then." Sera blinked twice and then shook her head slightly. "Sorry, my filter must be on the fritz again."

"And, what, you think we're friends now? You and Daryl decide to call yourselves married, which we all know is a joke, and you think you own the place?"

Sera slowly shook her head along the back of the chair and grinned sardonically. "No, I don't think we're friends now. You're still an asshole.

"I **am **married to Daryl, but me being married to him doesn't mean I own the place, but you thinking you're more important to the group than either Daryl or I doesn't make that true."

"Shane, stop it." Lori finished with her own hair and then moved to stand between the bickering pair. "Want me to put your hair up, and then you can tell us how to cover the fire? I really don't want to eat cold beans out of a can for dinner."

"Let's go ahead and move. You can do my hair while I supervise." Sera let Carol help her out of the chair before pointing at T-Dog. "Find a decent sized tarp and some rope. Oh, and a ladder would help if you can swing it."

O:O:O:O:O:O:

Daryl stepped off the trailhead and nearly choked on his breath.

Seraphim was standing in a little grove of trees to the left of the main camp, her bare feet balanced on the arms of a plastic chair, directing T-Dog and Shane in how to tie the tarp in a sort of tent over the fire. She was wearing the pajamas he had placed on her the night before, with the addition of a sports bra peeking out from under the tank top. As he watched, she wobbled slightly and flashed a pained but grateful smile to Dale when he reached for her waist and steadied her.

He was bearing down on Carol before he remembered the three ducks on a line slung over his shoulder, and he tossed them at her and Lori as he passed. Without stopping or sparing a word to the startled crowd, her looped one arm under Sera's knees and pulled her down from her perch and into his chest in one swift motion. His arms were steel bands as he completed the movement to turn and face the others.

"She's hurt, you assholes," his voice was the hiss of a pit viper, and everyone instinctively froze, trying not to draw attention to themselves. "You got the first ropes done fine. Tie the other two so you have a triangle roof, and yer done."

"Dare?"

"No." He was already walking to their tent, her weight doing little to hinder his progress.

"But-"

"Shut. Up." His tone left no room for argument.

Sera felt her spine stiffen and her shoulders tense. "Don't speak to me that way."

_Shit. No way that quiet voice is a good thing. _Daryl slowed his steps and gentled his arms so that Sera was held comfortably as they moved. "'M sorry."

"Good." Letting her pounding head rest on her husband's shoulder, Sera watched as they neared their tent. "You should be."

"Just don't want you hurt any more than ya are."

"I know, and that's fine." When he sat her down on her feet, Sera leaned forward and brushed a soft kiss over the pulse at the base of his throat. "But speaking to me like you're my warden is very far from okay."

"You should be sleeping and eating, not galivantin' around." Holding the tent flap open, he waited for her to enter before he followed her into the tent.

The shadowed coolness of the tent was welcoming, and Sera only just realized how the refracted sunlight had been contributing to the pounding in her temples and behind her eyes. "I wasn't **galivantin'**_._"

Seeing the tension ease from her shoulders, Daryl moved to help her lie down. "Let's get you laid down and you can rest for a bit. Don't want you out of this tent unless it's to eat."

"I'd fight you on that, but my head hurts too much. Pain meds do that to me." Sera sank gracefully into the blankets, sighing heavily and closing her eyes.

Daryl joined her and drew her against him so that she rested on his chest. "Then go to sleep. We can always fight later."

"Prob'ly won't feel like it then."

Daryl smoothed her thick braid and pressed a kiss to her temple. "I'm sure I'll just piss you off again anyway."

"Not if you just let me be."

Daryl shook his head. "Not unless yer gonna agree to lay around and do nothin' for the next few days."

"But I'm not going to get any worse than I already am now."

"You do need to get better as quickly as possible, and that's not gonna happen if you keep trying to do too much."

Sera sighed and shook her head slightly. "I'm sore, baby, not dying."

"And thank God for that!" Daryl huffed. "You'd probably be trying to fight every walker bare handed if you were."

Sera rolled her eyes. "Quit overreacting. 'M not going to break, you know."

"But you could if a herd of damn geeks comes through and you can't move right!" Daryl shook her shoulder a little, really wanting to shake some sense into her stubborn head. "What happens when I'm not around, and you get attacked again? Answer me that."

"Baby, are you angry with me or worried about me?"

"I ain't angry **or **worried. I'm pissed the hell off that those assholes just walked in here and hurt you, that I couldn't do shit about it, and that it could happen again!"

Sera drew up short at his outburst. "Daryl Dixon, I think that all means you're worried about me, and that's fine. Hell, it's nice to know that you care."

He gave a snort of humor. "Course I care. I love you."

"I love you too, you know. I just don't like being ordered around."

Daryl's chin rubbed against the crown of her head as he nodded. "I get it."

"How about we compromise?"

His hand stilled on her hair. "Listenin'."

"I'll stay in camp, and I won't do anything that calls for more than sitting or the occasional standing." When his firm chest rumbled unhappily under her ear, Sera pulled back to look up at him. "I'm not used to just layin' around, baby. It'll drive me batty."

"Fine," Daryl sighed in exasperation. "But if you feel worse or the doc says yer doin' too much, you'd better get back to bed."

Sera's smile was all the sunlight Daryl would ever need in the world. "Deal."

Pressing a kiss to her lips, Daryl suddenly didn't want to stop. The image of the other man's body draped over hers, of his hands tearing at her skirt and legs flooded Daryl's mind and sent a cloud blacker than those in the sky over his heart. His hands slid down her back and grabbed the gentle swells of her butt.

With a groan, he forced himself away. "Sorry."

"For what?" Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears, breathy and seductive.

"You need your rest. Don't need me manhandlin' ya."

Sera, being very careful of her stitches, slid up his chest to look him in the eyes. "I **like** you handling me."

Daryl's pants gave a jerk. "Don't you got a headache? And you hurt all over."

"Well, the way I see it, you can help with one of my aches. Besides, the headache will fade with some blood movement. Opiates mess with me, but the headaches aren't too hard to get rid of if you can convince yourself to move."

"You sure?"

Sliding her arms under his neck, Sera licked and nibbled along his jaw to his lips. "You'll just have to do most of the work is all."

Mindful of her injuries, Daryl kissed her long and slow as he turned to put her on her back. "I **am** a good worker."

"Mmm, I do love me a workin' man." Sera giggled as he rid them both of their clothes and began sliding his tongue over her shoulders and throat. "Tickles."

Daryl let his mouth linger over the bruises on her throat. He wished he could erase each ugly and unwanted mark with his touch, hated that some animal had dared touch the perfection of her pale skin. He spent several minutes laving her skin before kissing down her chest and taking a pebbled nipple into the warmth of his mouth.

Sera, lost in the sensation of his lips and tongue on her throat and the gentle rasp of his bear stubble along her shoulder, gasped and arched slightly in surprise when his lips closed over her nipple. A moan slid past her lips, and Daryl didn't bother to even try to stop his answering chuckle of male satisfaction and pride. Pushing her thighs slightly apart, he let his fingers dance over her dewy curls to the little slice of heaven nestled there. Settling into a slow rhythm, Daryl kept his hand working as he switched to the other nipple.

Sera felt her toes curling as Daryl led her down a meandering path of pleasure and warmth. He coaxed her along with gentle movements, with the slow curling of broad, strong fingers and the tender rubbing of his thumb over her clit. When her body finally relented and went over the edge, it was more akin to sinking into a warm bath than throwing herself off a cliff.

"Oh!" Sera gave a hiccupping sigh. "Oh, **Daryl**!"

His chuckle spoke of delicious things to come, and he slid down to place gentle nibbles at her hips and navel. "Still with me, Catchfly?"

"Yeah," Sera's voice was dreamy and quiet in the growing gloom of the afternoon.

"Good." Daryl reached up and pulled his pillow down to fit it under her hips to elevate her without putting strain on her leg. Taking her right hand, he guided it to his ever lengthening brown locks with a devilish grin. "May want to hold on, girl."

Sera had just enough time to tighten her fingers in his hair before he slid one rose petal thigh over his shoulder and pressed an open mouthed kiss to her already weeping center. His hand were busy holding her hip to keep her still while his other held her open for his tongue to work her over softly. If Daryl wasn't being so tender, Sera would have come off the blankets.

Daryl was taking his time, building her coming orgasm as slowly and methodically as one would build a fine home. His every instinct was goading him into rising up and getting inside her, but he refused to be rushed, especially by himself. When she began to shift against his hold and whimper softly, he pulled back slightly and began to slowly ease the two longest fingers on his right hand into her. Without interrupting the rhythm of his undulating, curling fingers, Daryl leaned down and rubbed the bare tip of his tongue against the throbbing bundle of nerves in front of him.

"That's so good, baby." Sera's whisper was bookended by a rolling swell of thunder.

Sharp blue eyes flashed up to her face. "Want more?"

Sera barely managed a nod. "Oh, yes, please!"

Another chuckle worked its way up from his chest. "Always so fuckin' polite."

Sera's response was stolen from her tongue as he began to press against her firmly with every move of his tongue. When she gave that hiccupping sigh again and tightened her fingers in his hair, he once again eased away and retrieved a condom from their swiftly dwindling supply. He had it open and on just before she blinked her eyes open and graced him with another heart stopping smile.

His right fist was planted beside her head as he looped his other arm under her knee. Pulling her leg up and to the side, he opened her up for himself. With a shift of his hips, he nudged against her until she bit her lip and locked her green eyes with his. Thrusting forward, he entered her slowly. The now frequent thunder masked Sera's involuntarily loud groan and Daryl drew out and pushed back in just to make her do it again.

The pillow under her hips combined with her position allowed Daryl to hit just the right angle as he moved against her, and Sera luxuriated in the firm, steady movements. "That's just lovely."

Just as Sera was beginning to relax into the comfortable movements, Daryl drew her leg around his own waist before stilling her head and capturing her mouth and a deep, desperate kiss. With a sudden surge, he ground against her harshly. When she gave no protest, and only moved to take him deeper, Daryl nearly crowed in triumph and began to move in earnest. Drawing him down against her, Sera locked her eyes with his from inches away and was suddenly struck with just how sensual sharing someone's breath really was.

Sera's toes began to curl, and her legs drew Daryl more tightly against her, making it nearly impossible for him to move. He began grinding against her instead, the movements smaller, but no more gentle than the harsh surge and recede that he had been employing a moment before. Sera could feel the tension in her neck and shoulders as the invisible string in her core tightened and twisted around itself.

There was a flash of light and Sera was coming apart, her body was at once adrift on the stars and burning from the twisting, pulsating muscles outward. Daryl's growl and erratic thrusting signaled that he had met his own completion. The thunder drowned out their moans and then their quiet words of love and devotion.


	28. I'll Take Your Pain

**Parts of this were hard to write.**

**The lemon here is dedicated to NikixXx, who left my 300th review.**

There was a steady drumbeat of rain on the roof when Sera opened her eyes the next morning. The wind tossed about in the trees, as if the god Notos himself were paying the small farm a visit. The branches moaned and sighed sadly in the grey mist. With the sun obscured by the clouds, it was impossible to tell what time it was, but Daryl was absent from the tent, and his pillow was cold to the touch. With a sigh, Sera pushed herself up and began gathering clothes suited for the damp weather.

Pulling on a pair of cut offs, she paired them with a tank, crafting apron, and a flannel. She planned on getting back up to the attic for some of the knitting supplies, but wanted to go through her bags and recheck her supplies as well. They were going to need somewhere better than tents when the temperatures started falling, and Sera wanted to be as ready as possible when the order came to move..

"Mornin'," Sera called across the clearing to the group assembled under the tarp. Spotting Beth and Maggie, Sera smiled at the sisters.

"Hi," Beth smiled shyly.

"Hey, honey." Sera grinned. "Is there any way I could get some of that yarn from upstairs? I've been ordered on rest and have some ideas for it."

"I can bring you anything from the attic you would like, if that'll work."

"Thank you." Sera smiled brightly. "I have all the things I wanted to start with in the blue and white project bag."

Beth nodded and started across the grass before Sera could tell her to wait until after she ate some breakfast.

Daryl waited until Sera moved close enough to his chair, and then snagged her belt loop and dragged her down into his lap. When Glenn choked on a surprised chuckle, Daryl leveled a glower at the younger man. "Problem, Short Round?"

Glenn shook his head and quickly turned his attention to the pan Carol was tending beside the fire.

Sera snuggled into her shirt and wrapped her arms around her waist while sinking into the warmth of Daryl's chest. "Feeling just a bit grabby today?"

Daryl's eyes flicked around the assembled group to make sure no one was blatantly listening. "Thought you said you liked bein' handled?"

"As long as it's you doing the handling, sure. Just didn't know you were going to start doing it in front of people." Sera grinned and shook her head at his unusual behavior.

Jaw twitching slightly, Daryl rolled his tongue between his teeth before answering. "I can touch you whenever the hell I feel like it, as long as you're good with it. You're my wife, and they can go to hell if they say otherwise.'

"So, someone told you about what Walsh said?"

Jerking his chin, he indicated Dale and T-Dog. "Those two gossip like old church biddies."

Sera smirked and rolled her eyes. "He's an ass. Just ignore him."

"Thinkin' he'll go away if we don't pay him any attention?"

Sera nodded. "He's like a five year old who has never had to share the spotlight and now has to listen and cooperate with others."

Silently agreeing, Daryl pulled her to rest against him with both her legs resting over his right thigh.

Lori stepped up to their chair, holding a plate overflowing with eggs, duck, beans, and what Sera recognized as the wild carrots she had shown Sophia one afternoon. "Thought one plate for the two of you would be easier. Unless you want to sit in your own chair?"

Sera giggled at Lori's knowing grin. "Nah, I'm comfortable right here, thanks."

"Oh, Seraphim," Dale chuckled. "You remind me so much of my Irma."

"Well," Sera handed Daryl his fork and glanced back at Dale. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Sera grasped her own fork and dug into the beans and carrots while she listened to Dale's quiet chuckle.

Glenn cleared his throat, getting everyone's attention before leveling a curious look at Sera. "I have a question."

Shoving a bit of meat into her cheek and holding her hand slightly in front of her mouth, Sera spoke around the food. "What's that?"

"I thought you said you weren't very good with a crossbow? You had perfect aim the other day!"

"No, I didn't."

Glancing around at the others, Glenn grinned. "Yeah, you did. Boom! Headshot!"

Sera shook her head at his antics and blushed lightly. "No, I didn't. I was aiming for his shoulder."

Daryl chuckled and squeezed her waist while the others laughed loudly. Sera let the blush fade from her cheeks before she went back to nibbling on the contents of her shared plate.

Beth returned with the yarn and needles just as Sera finished eating, blushing lightly at the couple's position. Spotting the light blue skein at the top, Sera passed Daryl the plate and snatched the soft, warm yarn and the needed knitting needles before leaning back.

"What ya got there?" Daryl's southern drawl was gritty and sweet in her ear as he finished off the food and handed the now empty plate off to Carol.

"Gonna make you a hat," Sera finished the small swatch she had worked up and checked it against her right index finger. "You'll need something when it gets cold."

While Daryl couldn't argue that he would be in need of something to stop the loss of heat when he went hunting during cold weather, he wasn't quite sure about the color. "Why that one?"

"Because alpaca and wool are super warm and soft."

"Soft," Daryl scoffed quietly. "The hell do I need soft for?"

"Mostly because you had to ask that question." Sera glanced up at the others, glad when their quiet chuckles went ignored by her seat companion.

"Whatever. So why blue?"

"Because," she quickly cast on the needed stitches and began the process of making the band of his hat. "It'll look pretty with your eyes."

Daryl's quiet, choking laughter drew the eye of everyone under their tarp roof, and Sera giggled in response. Clasping the needles in her left hand, she reached up and ruffled his hair with her right. His instinctive jerk away drew a sad smile from her lips, though it melted away a few seconds later when he tilted his head and pushed against her fingers.

O:O:O:O:O:

The thin light of dawn was just creeping into the tent three days later when Sera blinked awake to see Daryl readying for a hunt, his two shirts layered with his leather vest to fight off the chill of the morning. The sounds of rain were noticeably absent, and Sera smiled when she saw him slip the new hat over his ears. Moving almost silently, he slipped his knives and a handgun into their various holsters before grasping his crossbow and quiver.

"Not gonna let me come with you? Doc says I'm pretty well good to go." Sera grinned when he spun to face her.

"Didn't mean to wake you." Remembering her question, Daryl frowned. "I'd feel better about you huntin' if your stitches were out."

Slipping her cut offs back on, Sera shoved her feet into her boots and stood. "So a few more days of sitting around. Oh, joy."

"Should take all the rest you can get." Daryl swatted her on the butt as she moved past him to the door flap. "What the hell are you doin'?"

"Gonna make you a proper breakfast and make sure you've got something to take with you." She spoke with the air of someone explaining the painfully obvious. "You can't run on water and air."

"Don't need you takin' care of me, woman."

"Yes, you do," Sera stepped outside and waited for him to place his crossbow and quiver beside the tent and join her before the pair moved to the glowing embers of the campfire. "Besides, I like doing it."

Daryl nodded and put some wood on the glowing coals, watching to make sure they caught before he sank down into one of the empty camp chairs. _If your wife wants to cook you breakfast, you sure as hell better let her. _

Running his eyes over the RV, he caught Rick's eye and answered the former deputy's wave with one of his own.

_Jesus, if the others weren't here, it'd be just like camping. I'd go huntin', and she'd do a few things around camp before maybe fishing for a while. We'd clean it all and eat good and hearty. _

Taking some of the rabbit that had been cooked the night before and stored, Sera cut it into small chunks. Tossing it into the skillet, she cut up three potatoes from the garden and added them to the meat. Four eggs and plenty of salt and pepper soon followed, and the whole concoction was stirred together until the potatoes were firm and browned. Scooping the mass out onto a plate, she pressed it into Daryl's hands along with a fork before waving Rick down.

Digging in right away, he didn't notice Sera wasn't eating until she handed Rick a plate and moved to put water on for coffee. "Where's yours?"

"I can't eat anything too heavy until I've been awake for a bit." Sera made a face. "It turns my stomach if I do."

"Didn't know that," Daryl looked troubled.

"Not like we normally have anything more than oatmeal, baby. Don't worry about it too much."

If Rick noticed the endearment, he didn't let on. "This is really good."

"Well, thank you!" Sera smiled brightly. "I thought Dale was on watch?"

Rick nodded and swallowed before he answered. "He's doing a loop. We keep someone on the RV and another doing random loops around the camp and house."

Finishing off his food in short order, Daryl rose to place his plate in the empty tub. "Best breakfast I've had in a while."

A surprised shout broke the momentary peace, driving Sera's response from her lungs and spurring Daryl into instantaneous action. Ripping his knife free of its holster and wrenching a lantern from where Rick had hung it on his chair, he sprinted across the dirt and grass. Rick and Sera were moving a heartbeat later, Sera's lean legs bringing her abreast of her husband as they crested the slight hill. Dale's sound of pain sent them skidding over the grass and weeds toward a shadowed, hunched figure.

Sera was less than ten feet away when she realized what she was seeing. Her mind was fighting against the reality of the situation, refusing to put together the images being transmitted by her eyes into a comprehensive scene. It was trying to shield her from seeing the emaciated, fetid figure lift a dripping hand to its mouth. She was spurred into motion again when Daryl was suddenly ripping the bloody, boney body away from the gurgling man on the ground.

"Jesus Christ," Shane's voice rumbled from behind her left shoulder.

Rick whipped away from where he had been standing over Dale. "We need some help here!"

Sera sank down next to him, whipping her t-shirt over her head and using the cotton to push against the bleeding abdomen of the older man. When he coughed and tried to move, she reached up and smoothed thinning, grey hair from his forehead in a gesture designed to sooth and quiet hurt or fussy babies. Dale let his head rest against the grass and stared at her quietly, his breath sawing in and out of his chest.

Rick was nearly hysterical, and it took Hershel repeating himself for the deputy to understand that there was nothing they could do for their mentor and friend.

Forgetting about the wound, Sera scooted up beside Dale's shoulder. "Sshhhhhhhh, honey, it's gonna be okay."

"Shoot…" Dale's voice was little more than a rasping whisper as he looked over to Rick.

"No, no, no, Dale." Sera turned his head so he was looking at her. "You just look at me, okay? We'll take care of ya."

"Ir. . . . Irma?"

_Oh. Oh, __**Dale**__. _Ignoring the debate going on behind her, not letting herself think of where Daryl was or what he was thinking of her, Sera pressed a kiss to Dale's forehead.

"Hush, now." Sera fought back a sob.

"Ah, Sera," Dale gave her a sad, knowing smile.

Strong arms drew her away from the fallen man. "C'mon, Catchfly."

Daryl had fought the urge to pull her back until Rick decided on a plan of action. He wanted her nowhere **near **a potential walker threat, but he couldn't deny a dying man some small amount of peace and comfort. When it was clear that the only course of action was to end the old man's suffering, he looped an arm around her cool waist and pulled her back against his chest.

Rick hesitated, his face crumpling in pain and indecision, and Daryl pushed Sera toward Carol and Lori at the back of the crowd before he quietly took the pistol from Rick's slack hand. With a deep breath full of the heaviness of the morning, he leveled the barrel at Dale's head. When Dale lifted to meet the cold steel, Sera let her tears run unchecked down her face.

"Sorry, brother." Daryl pulled the trigger, sending Dale to peace and the rest of the group into various levels of sadness and despair.

"How did it get in?" Lori's voice was reedy with tears and thick with fear. "Are the fences down?"

"No," Hershel's voice was confident. "I walk them twice every day. It's more likely that it came through the creeks, that the mud is drying up and letting them walk through."

Rick looked around the assembled group and out over the trees still steeped in shadow. "We go back to camp. Stick together. No one goes **anywhere **alone. As soon as we have the light, we inspect the fence and see what's going on with the creek banks."

With that, the group slowly made their way back to camp, a nearly senseless Andrea being supported by Shane.

O:O:O:O:O:

Dale's funeral was thick with love, regret, fear, and hopelessness. Each member of the group had a story to tell about the man, or some bit of advice he had given that they wanted to share. Sera stood beside Daryl, her hand going numb and white in his grip.

He hadn't let go of her since she had retrieved a sheet to cover their fallen friend that morning and he had returned from digging a grave. She had been led around by the hand, or with one callused palm placed firmly in the dip of her back. If they were standing, an arm around her chest or waist caged her against his chest. Sitting, she would be in his lap or pressed to his side.

The one time she had slipped away to make use of the Greene's bathroom, Daryl had barreled into the house snorting and spitting like an angry bull.

"_Don't do that. Not today."_

_Sera's face crumpled in confusion. "Do what, baby?"_

"_Can't have you out of my sight right now." Daryl pulled her into a crushing hug, her feet leaving the floor. _

Since then, she had made sure he could see her if they weren't in physical contact with each other. Glenn was likewise keeping his eye on Maggie, with Hershel doing the same with both his daughters. Carol refused to let Sophia into the woods, and Carl was complaining that his snares were being ignored until Rick and T-Dog went and brought in the three rabbits and two raccoons that had been held captive in the thin lines.

The fences had all been checked, and no breech was found.

After the funeral broke up and T-Dog insisted that he wanted to fill in the dirt alone, Sera and Daryl turned to head to their tent.

"Sera," Hershel had stopped Rick and Shane as well. "Would you and Daryl wait a second?"

Daryl didn't say a word, but pulled Sera into his side and glowered darkly at the three men in front of them.

_Just want to get my girl back to our tent and get good and naked. Bet Shane's just tryin' to keep us here because he's not getting' any. _He caught Shane's slightly mad brown eyes lingering over Sera's curves before they lifted to him and narrowed in distaste. _That's right, asshole, the girl's mine. Ain't no way you're ever getting close enough to get a taste._

"I've decided that you are all welcome in my house." Hershel nodded sadly. "I **should **have done it a while back, but just couldn't see past my own pain. I'm sorry for that."

Daryl glanced down at Sera's expressive eyes and read the answer there. "Yeah, we'll be there."

"I've given Rick's family the front bedroom, but Beth will be moving into Maggie's room. You two are welcome to her old one."

Daryl, who much preferred to have some warning if walkers were to swarm the farmhouse, nodded and let go of Sera long enough to reach out and shake the old farmer's hand firmly. "We'll get moved in by tonight."

"Good, good." Hershel turned to the others, and Sera let Daryl lead her away.

They were barely ten paces away from the other men when Sophia and Carl came to meet them.

"Are you going out?" Carl was bouncing on his toes, his father's hat waggling on his head. "Dad said the fences were fine and that there weren't any more of those things."

"If it's safe, can we go too?" Sophia's fingers twisted in the hem of her t-shirt.

Daryl shook his head, his empty hand flexing in agitation. "Not today."

"No one is going into the woods today." Sera made a face at the two to lighten the mood, and grinned when they both giggled. "Go on and ask your mammas what you can do to help get things packed up to move inside."

"Jesus, God." Daryl's voice took on a quiet growl at the sight of the camp in barely controlled turmoil.

Sera frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Wanted to be alone."

"Oh," Sera understood the need for solitude and didn't want to crowd him if he needed a bit of time by himself to process and come to terms with the events of the morning and early afternoon. "I can go start gathering things if you need some time away."

Tightening his grip on her hand, Daryl shook his head and began chewing at the skin around his right thumbnail. "Meant I wanted to be alone **with you**."

Sera understood his meaning and blushed lightly. "Them bein' around was never a problem before."

Daryl shook his head without speaking. He was too full. There were too many thoughts, too many emotions. Thoughts of Sera being killed, of never hearing her laugh or getting to speak to her, of never being able to kiss her or run his hands through her wild curls kept circulating through his mind. Each thought or emotion fed the others, pushing Daryl closer to the thin line of losing his already tenuous hold on his temper and any relationships outside of that with Sera or Merle.

_Need her alone and away from these assholes. Think, Dixon._ Scanning the camp and surrounding farm, Daryl let the corner twitch slightly upward.

Leading her to his bike, he nudged her toward the seat in back. "Get on."

"But, don't we have to –"

"Only thing we have to do is live our damn lives." Swinging his leg over the bike and settling in the seat, he held his hand out to help her climb up behind him. "Now, get the hell on, woman."

Sera giggled and let him help her on, loving the feeling of the cool leather under her and his hips against her thighs. "Where're we goin'?"

"No clue."

Before he could start the engine, Rick and Shane jogged up to them. Rick looked over the couple and frowned slightly. "What's going on?"

"Taking my girl out for a ride." Daryl said nonchalantly, unconcerned with anything the two men had to say. "That a problem?"

"Yeah, it's a problem!" Shane's hands rested on his hips, his heavy brows drawn in a deep frown. "You're wasting gas, causing noise with that loud ass bike, and leaving the safety of the farm!"

"My gas, my bike, and the safety of the farm don't seem all that great right about now." Daryl revved the bike and kicked the stand up. "Now, I'm takin' **my wife** for a god damned** bike ride**. We'll be back b'fore dinner."

Without waiting for a rebuttal, Daryl hit the throttle and they sped down the gravel driveway and onto the country road beyond. Sera held tightly to his waist and tilted her head back to enjoy the early afternoon sun on her face. It had been years since she was on a bike, and the rumbling of the metal between her legs made her nearly giddy with delight.

Daryl took them down first one road and then another, looking for just the right spot to pull off. He needed somewhere private but defendable for what he had in mind. When they took a winding road up and around a hilltop, Daryl smirked slightly.

_Oh, __**hell **__yeah. _A tall fire tower looked out over a cliff and the surrounding forest, the grass below the metal and wood structure just starting to reach shin height. A tall fence surrounded most of the clearing with only part of the side they rode in through left unobstructed. A second gate was located directly across from the first, a thin chain securing it closed.

"Hey, this is much nicer than my other fire tower." Sera grinned as she hopped down from the bike and stretched her legs. "Wanna climb it?"

"Hell no." His voice, deep as a canyon and rough as a gravel road, came from right behind her.

Sera turned to face him, and Daryl was suddenly all over her. Thrusting his tongue into her mouth, he dominated the kiss without a fight and pressed her back against one of the tower's supports. The moment she yielded to his aggression, sighing softly and looping her arms around his neck and shoulders, Daryl made a low sound of approval.

Rucking her shirt up, he shoved her bra out of the way and fondled her breast roughly. Forcing her back to bend, he took her nipple into his mouth and nibbled on the puckered flesh.

When Daryl came back to her mouth, thrusting his tongue deeply into her welcoming warmth, Sera let her arms rest on his broad shoulders and moaned into his mouth as he began working her hair loose of its braid. When he pulled away from her, his breathing ragged and hair mussed from her digging fingers, Sera whimpered in disappointment. Yanking her away from the metal pole, Daryl took a step back and let go of her completely.

"I need to fuck you." His blue eyes were piercing, wild and dilated in the sunlight. "I love you, but I **need **to fuck you right now."

She had one thought only as she stared into those crystalline blue eyes. _Run. Run because he wants you to, because he needs to work off some of that angry energy, and because it makes you hot to know you're just a little afraid of him._

With a quiet huff, and pivoting on her right toe, Sera sprinted away from him, rushing through the grass and weeds. Her boots moved easily through the light growth and she heard Daryl right behind her. The need and controlled violence rolled off him like a growing storm, looking for a place to land and ready to break all over her.

Nearing the fence, she shifted again, twisting to the left and making a break for the more open area on the other side of his motorcycle. She could hear his boots thundering behind her, his quiet, measured breathing allowing him to keep pace. Faking a hard right, Sera ducked his outstretched arm and moved to the left.

She rounded the back tire of his motorcycle, and –

He caught her by the hair and arm, twisting her around and tangling their legs so that they tripped. Tumbling to the ground, he shifted his weight to take the brunt of the impact. Sera had the barest moment to realize she was now on top of him, his chest under her shoulders, before his knees rose between hers and forced her legs open wide.

His hand thrust between her thighs with rough, possessive authority, and the growl that rumbled from his chest at the discovery of just how turned on their play had made her was more animal than man. Rolling, Daryl rose up behind her and used his knife to slit the worn seam of her shorts. This close, he smelled of leather, warm summer air, and the clean woodsy scent that only he possessed.

She nearly came.

Her panties suffered the same fate as her shorts. As warm air hit her ass, it crossed her mind that she didn't have a change of clothes. There was the rasping sound of a zipper from behind her.

And then she didn't think anymore.

He angled her hips off the ground, and the head of his erection bumped down to the center of her. Finding what was waiting for him, what was his for the taking, Daryl gave a moaning growl of approval.

He shoved into her, hard as a Georgia hickory and wider than she had ever felt him before.

Sera pressed her hands into the soft earth, trying and failing to gain a handhold as he pumped into her. He set a fierce rhythm, two hundred and thirty pounds of raw sex all over her, stretching the inside of her. She could feel her knees being stained by the crushed grass. Little clumps of green caught in her fingers and tangled on her ring as the first of the orgasms jumped into her.

Daryl clamped a hand around her chin and wrenched her mouth around. He was unable to kiss her while still moving, and so he hissed between his teeth and bit down into the rounded top of her shoulder. The pain mixed with the pleasure. They swirled together and kicked off another rush of pleasure and an orgasm that left Sera seeing splotches of black.

When the copper taste of blood touched his tongue, Daryl let up and pulled himself away from Sera's writhing body. Wrenching his boots and pants off, he caught sight of his motorcycle two feet away. With a dark grin, he pulled Sera from the ground and pushed her toward the bike.

Wrapping his arm around her waist, and fisting her hair at the base of her skull, he bent her over the front of the bike. He kicked her legs apart and placed her feet on either side of the extended front wheel. Sera had enough wits about her to wrap her fingers around the handlebars before Daryl was suddenly on and in her again. She slid her hands down to just above the fork and let her head rest there, the headlight helping to support her chest as his brutal pace caused the bike to shift slightly beneath her.

This was her Daryl, full of power and purpose, and she loved him.

Especially like this.

Her knees buckled as she cried out and shattered around him for a third time.

Daryl scooped her up into his arms and laid her out over the seat of the Triumph. Her hair cascaded over the saddlebag and pooled on the ground. She grasped whatever she could find to hold on to behind her head and groaned when he looped a thick forearm behind one of her legs and stretched her wide for him. He slid home easily, his movements more jerky and uncontrolled than before.

Sera's vision, when she occasionally opened her eyes, was filled with a world sat on its head. Sun glinted from the ground while grass and trees danced in the sky.

Sera was everything he needed and would ever want. She was the soft landing for his aggression and sometimes uncontrollable anger. He was the storm twisting and snarling, bearing down on her, and she was the land with the will and strength to take whatever it was that he had to let out.

As he gazed down at her, knowing she would be bruised and sore, she gasped again from her body shattering with pleasure. Throwing himself off the ledge, he went flying with her. His orgasm pistoled out of him, his pulses as hot as fire and thick as honey.

Grasping her hips, he slid back to the ground, pulling her boneless form to him protectively.

And then there was only their labored, desperate breathing.

Dizzy and satiated, he lifted his head to take stock of the fence line, glad to see they had no unwanted visitors.

"I love you, Catchfly."

Sera gave a soft sigh and let her muscles begin to relax as she rested against his chest. "I love you too, baby."

As the late summer sun and a gentle breeze swirled around them, caressing her naked skin, Sera remembered her ruined pants and giggled. "Am I gonna have to ride back to the farm mostly naked?"


	29. Under Pressure

**Sorry this took so long. Also, don't hate me too much.**

The front of Sera's thighs tingled in the warm afternoon sun, and she knew she would be a little pink by the time they made it back to the farm. The thinning cotton of Daryl's boxers left more leg exposed than she was comfortable with, but her cutoffs were beyond repair and wearing her husband's underwear beat the only other alternative. Daryl had given his airy, barely there chuckle when she pulled them on before shoving her feet into her worn brown boots, drawing her close to kiss her deeply before straddling his bike.

The country roads were deserted of any vehicle besides their own, and no shuffling, moaning bodies stepped out as they passed. Sunlight hugged the canopy of leaves above the road, occasionally reaching through to kiss the earth underneath. Sera gripped Daryl's waist lightly, tipping her head back and offering her lips to the loving brilliance of the yellow summer sun. For one brief, shining moment, God was in his heaven and all was right with the world.

The farm was peacefully busy as the pair coasted up the gravel drive, Carl and Sophia running to meet them as they came to a halt beside the charming front porch. Sera looked around the nearly empty camp and almost felt bad about taking off with Daryl and leaving the others to break down and move things. However, the pleasant ache in her abused muscles and the memory of Daryl's hands on her flesh drew a smile from her lips, and a quiet hum from her chest.

"Are you guys okay?" Carl was a little breathless, his cheeks pink from the sun and his recent activities at camp. "Where did you go?"

Sophia's observant brown eyes flickered over Sera's current state of dress and the secretive smile playing over the older woman's face. Blushing, she turned to Carl. "I think they just needed to get away from people for a while. Let's go see if your mom needs help with the laundry buckets."

"But –"

"C'mon!" Yanking his arm, Sophia smirked and nodded at Sera's grateful smile.

Daryl shrugged his crossbow over his shoulder and nudged her in the direction of their tent. "Let's get movin'."

"It's not like we'll take nearly as long as the rest of them to break camp." Sera waved at the other women, ignoring their knowing grins and stifling a giggle as Andrea came to join them and motioned to Sera's green camouflage boxers.

Daryl fought the urge to duck his head and chew at his thumb. _That's right; I just took my wife out and had us a great time. _Catching sight of Shane, Daryl frowned at the way the other man's eyes tracked Lori around camp before shifting to take stock of Rick. _Asshole cop's losing his shit._

Reaching their tent, Sera changed as quickly as her aching muscles would allow. The small of her back cramped and pulled painfully as she reached for another pair of shorts, and she groaned when strong, callused fingers began working the knots loose. Daryl's hands pushed and rubbed, quickly forcing the angry knots to relax. It wasn't long before Sera heaved a sigh and decided it was time for her to move if she had any hope of getting packed before nightfall.

"Oh, thank you!" Sera kissed him softly before she turned to survey their shared space. "What do you think?"

"Split everythin' between the house and your car."

With a half shrug and a nod, Sera set about doing as he has suggested. A few changes of clothes were placed in piles to take to the room Beth had given up so they could be together, while a few more were rolled tightly and fitted into the saddle bags of Daryl's bike. The rest were packed into duffles and stored in the Jeep. As Beth's room came equipped with bedding (a bit flowery for Daryl's tastes, but bedding all the same), the pillows and blankets were also packed into the cargo space of Sera's loyal vehicle.

Two hours later, the tent was broken down and all their belonging were stored safely away in the Jeep or stacked in the small corner bedroom allotted to them. Sera had insisted on packing guns and knives in both his saddlebags and her Jeep. While he was busy hauling a load of clothes, she slipped a bag full of protein bars, packs of peanuts, and a small jar of instant coffee grounds into the left bag with his clothes. Weapons and ammo were secured in the right side.

Evening came fast, and the group joined Hershel's family around the dining table for a meal that stretched from one end to the other, spilling over onto a smaller table for the younger members. Carl and Sophia ate quickly, grabbing some biscuits to take with them as they went to relieve T-Dog and Shane for watch on the front porch, leaving Beth, Maggie, and Glenn to eat and talk. Lori pushed her meat around on her plate and managed to eat nearly half of it before her stomach refused any more. Sera and Daryl cleaned their plates with practiced efficiency, using biscuits to mop up the rabbit gravy left after the mashed potatoes.

Shane finished his plate and glanced at the darkening sky. "We should do a turn around the fences before we turn in."

"Think it's necessary?" Rick leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the table and frowning at his partner while chewing the last of his food. "No one is sleeping outside, and there will be lookouts on the front and back porches."

Shane nodded before leaning back. "Be better to know we're startin' the night without walkers close."

"You're right, it would." Rick looked around at the others. "Shane and I will take a walk around the fence line. The rest of you find something to do to pass the time before bed."

As Beth and Maggie left the room to find some cards and board games, Rick looked to Daryl. "You good here?"

"Yeah, I got it covered." Daryl's sharp eyes narrowed at Shane, mistrusting the dark, shifty look in the other man's eyes. "You be careful out there. Watch your back."

Shane scoffed. "That's what I'm there for."

Shoving the chair away from the table, Shave stomped from the room in search of his coat.

"Uh huh," Daryl looked to Rick. "You need me?"

"No," Rick was troubled, but far less dangerous than Shane. "I've got this."

_Well, they had to have it out sometime. _Daryl nodded and rolled his tongue between his teeth. _Better to do it away from the others. Kids don't need to see that shit._

As the door shut behind the pair, Daryl decided it was time to have one of his dwindling cigarettes. Pulling the battered pack from his vest pocket, he went in search of his wife. He stepped into the living room to the sight of Maggie giggling at something Glenn had said.

"But I thought you said you couldn't shoot Daryl's crossbow." The young brunette's voice turned incredulous. "You nailed that asshole right in the temple. Boom! Headshot!"

Sera snorted. "I was aiming for his shoulder."

As the others dissolved into laughter, Daryl looped his arm around Sera's waist and drew her out into the darkening night.

O:O:O:O:O:

"Must be September." Sera leaned forward and smiled around her cigarette as Daryl flicked his lighter to life and held it out for her.

Sophia, standing at the bottom of the steps to show how seriously she was taking the responsibility of having a shift on watch, glanced up at the pair. "How do you know?"

Daryl nodded at the moon hanging full and yellow bright in the cloudless sky. "Harvest moon."

"This time last year, we'd be helping the farmers bring in all sorts of things from the fields." Sera exhaled a thin stream of smoke and looked out over the fields.

Carol stepped up to the screen door and looked out at the couple standing at the banister and at the two youngest members of the group. Carl was making slow circles around the porch, leaning far out over the rail to look down the sides of the house before turning back. Sophia's station at the bottom of the steps allowed her to look down the long drive and along the tree line without obstruction.

"Everything okay out there?" Carol's voice was quiet, her hesitation to interrupt obvious. "Want some coffee?"

Sera turned to the older woman, a welcoming smile on her lips, when a gunshot rang out over the fields, echoing off the trees and halting all movement inside the house. "What the hell?"

Daryl's cigarette was a falling star as it arced out into the night. "Carl, Sophia, inside. Now."

Carl hurried to the top of the stairs and waited until Sophia joined him before the pair stepped through the door being held open by her mother. Daryl reached down and drew his pistol as he followed Seraphim behind the kids.

"Was that a gunshot?" Lori's voice quivered from beside her son, her arm wrapped protectively around his shoulders. "What's going on?"

"Should I. . . " Glenn motioned toward the door uncertainly.

Daryl glanced around the room at the now fully assembled group. "Nah, I'll go. No one else leaves this house until you hear from me or Rick."

Sera caught his wrist as he strode purposefully toward the door, the braid of her hair warm under her hand. "Be careful."

"Always," Daryl pressed a kiss to her lips and left the house.

His path took him across the front yard and then down along the fencerow, the gun feeling more heavy with each lightly jogged step over the dampening ground. As he climbed the gentle hill beside the house, a figure sitting hunched in the fog slowly rising from the grass drew his attention. As he watched, Rick's voice began to quietly apologize to someone Daryl couldn't see.

"Rick," Daryl stage whispered into the false dawn of the full moon.

The deputy slowly rose from his kneeling position, his face a mask of shock and bone deep despair as he slowly turned to face Daryl. "He came at me. I knew he was having problems, but I didn't think. . . "

It was then that Daryl spotted Shane's body crumpled on the ground, his eyes staring lifelessly at the stars. "Jesus, Rick."

"He said he was going to take Carl and Lori." Rick turned pleading eyes to the other man. "I couldn't let him kill me and take my family."

_Hell no. That asshole hasn't been right in a while. Hell, maybe since before the cluster fuck at the CDC. _

Before Daryl could respond, however, movement behind Rick drew his attention. Shane was slowly standing, the wound on his chest feebly pumping blood down his chest and ruined shirt. Daryl opened his mouth to call out to the other man, to tell him to stay back, when the light of the moon caught on his blank stare.

"Shit," Daryl raised his gun. When Rick held his hands up and began to reason with him, Daryl took a step to the right and fired a single round into the forehead of the newly reanimated corpse of Shane Walsh.

Spinning around, Rick gaped, horrified, at his former best friend and partner. "Oh, Jesus God."

"What the hell?" Daryl spun around quickly, looking for evidence of a walker, but saw nothing. "Was he bitten?!"

"No…" Rick shook his head in denial. "No, he wasn't."

"How the hell'd he turn, then?"

Rick's chest expanded as he took a deep breath, obviously steeling his nerves and calling his thoughts to order. Before he could speak, a ghostly moan slid over the field. Both men twisted to look out over the expansive pasture, separated from where they stood by a simple wooden fence.

A lone walker melted from the darkness, the fog swirling around her knees. The dress she had probably worn to work those months ago when her world went to hell was tattered around her knees and hung from her emaciated shoulders. One leg had been ripped open, part of her calf muscle dragging and tangling in the grass behind her. As Daryl planted his hand on the fence and began to swing his leg over the top slat, ready to go take care of her, another, more masculine, groan reached their ears.

Stepping back next to Rick, Daryl watched as another shuffling corpse came into sight. He had enough time to see that the thing's right ear was missing along with a good portion of his neck before another greying, disfigured face appeared. Rick began swearing quietly under his breath as more stumbling, moaning bodies crested the hill.

"Get to the house," Rick turned and began running toward the quiet farmhouse. "Get the others to the cars."

"Where're you goin'?"

Jerking his head to the side, Rick indicated the old barn that had once held Hershel's family and neighbors. "I'll light the barn. May distract them long enough to get us out."

Shoving one of his lighters into Rick's hand, Daryl nodded once and split off to the right.

O:O:O:O:O:

Sera followed Daryl to the door, shutting it behind him, and turned to begin a pacing loop that would take her from the front door to the kitchen and back. It felt like an hour later when another gunshot rang out through the stillness of the night. Motioning for the others to stay put, Sera nodded Glenn toward the back door while she opened the front to look out over the fields.

"Nothing's back there." Glenn's voice was breathless with apprehension.

Sera's response died in her throat. Daryl was sprinting over the dirt and grass, his pistol reflecting the moonlight as his arms moved with the effort of running. Behind him, just at the top of the hill behind the old rail fence, shapes moved stumbled in the moonlight.

"Oh, my God." Sera opened the screen door and stepped just outside.

Daryl's arrival stopped the others' questions, his breathing heavy as he ordered them to their cars.

"Rick's lighting the old barn. Gonna try to buy us some time." Daryl took the shotgun Sera offered him, checking to make sure it was loaded and dropping more shells into his pocket. It would be easier to fire and reload than the crossbow slung over his back.

"Lori, Carol," Sera looked to the other women. "Get the kids in the car."

Maggie brought an armload of rifles and shotguns from a back room and began loading them and handing them out to anyone not already carrying. "Are we fighting?"

"There are too many of 'em." Daryl shook his head and went back to watching the horde gather at the fence. "A group that size would rip through the place."

Hershel accepted a shotgun and ammunition from the stack. Looking to Glenn, he nodded grimly. "Take Maggie and Beth. Keep them together."

"What about you, Doc?" Daryl winced as flames began to shoot from the open door of the barn.

"It's my farm," Hershel stepped out onto the porch. "I'll die with it."

"Well, tonight's as good a night as any." Daryl pressed a heated, desperate kiss to Sera's lips. "Get to your Jeep."

Grasping his vest, Sera held Daryl in place. "What about you?"

"Gonna take out what I can, grab the bike, and run some distraction while you guys get gone. I'll be right behind you."

Nodding, Sera let him go and turned to the others. "Lori, are you good to drive?"

A sudden series of staccato cracks drew every eye to the fence that had just given way under the weight and push of the oncoming horde of stumbling, decaying ghouls.

"I've got 'em." T-Dog nodded to the women. "It'll be a tight fit in that truck, but it's sturdy."

"Do what you can to thin the herd, then get to the highway." Sera made sure her quiver was in position and her bow was secured to her back. Two shotguns were lashed to her back, the familiar Berettas were in her hands, extra magazines loaded and slipped in pockets.

Patricia stopped as Glenn ushered the older woman and the two Greene sisters toward his designated car. "I need to grab something upstairs. Please, I need my wedding picture!"

"Go if you're goin', but hurry your ass up!" Sera turned to Jimmy. "Get the RV. See if you can find Rick over by the barn."

"Should we wait?" Beth's voice was thin and trembling.

"No, go," Sera shook her head. "She'll ride with me. We'll meet at the overturned semi."

Sera took aim, shooting two walkers that were nearing T-Dog's truck before they could get in front of the vehicle and slow his progress down the dirt and gravel lane. As some of the walkers turned vacant eyes to the three at the front of the house, Daryl fired up his bike and began riding close to the crowd before turning and leading some away.

Sera sprinted to the Jeep and slid into the driver's seat. Starting it up quickly, she drove forward over two small walkers, her large off-roading tires rolling over the moaning corpses with an easy _bump bump. _ A spin of a wheel had her skidding to a halt beside the porch. A quick glance up the stairs, and Sera could see that Patricia wasn't yet outside.

"Damn it!" Sera turned off the Jeep, not risking blowing the horn and bringing even more of the shambling geeks down on her, she drummed her hands on the wheel before palming a gun and sprinting up to the door and scanning the first floor of the house. Seeing no one, she stepped through the door and looked up the stairs.

"Patricia!"

O:O:O:O:O:

Daryl twisted the bike this way and that, firing one handed into the crowd of walkers. Catching sight of the station wagon spitting gravel as it skidded down the drive, he gave a vicious smile. _Least the kids and most of the women are out. Just keep goin', Dixon._

As he turned another figure eight, he saw the Jeep mowing over some walkers before making purchase on the driveway. _Good girl. _Relieved that Sera would soon be free of the farm, he turned his attention to the immediate threats.

The barn fire suddenly stuttered and popped, the back doors giving way under a small scale explosion, and Daryl suddenly remembered the gasoline tank that had been used to power the farm's generator. Cursing, he steered closer and saw the RV stranded beside the burning structure. As he watched, Rick jumped from the roof of the camper.

"Everyone out?!"

"Hershel's still out front! Everyone else is out!" Putting a bullet through the forehead of the nearest grey body, he motioned to his bike. "Get on!"

The other man was straddling the seat before Daryl finished speaking, unabashedly grasping his waist tightly. Guiding the bike expertly over the dirt and grass, they made it to the only remaining truck just as the hundreds of reanimated bodies made it to the opposite edge of the yard. Throwing himself into the truck, Rick turned the key and waved Daryl away.

"I'll get Hershel!"

Nodding, Daryl pointed the motorcycle away from the house and toward the dark unknown. With any luck, he would be looking for a quiet place to hold his wife by morning.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

Sera heard the roar of Daryl's bike moving back and forth between the house and barn, the sound an oriflamme to her frightened mind. If Daryl was still up and moving on that bike, then she was still okay to be inside the house. _Now, if I can just get Patricia moving! _

"Patricia, you've got to the count of three!" Sera grasped the bottom of the banister, peering into the dark upstairs hallway. "One! Two!"

"Here!" The older lady ran down the stairs, a simply framed photograph tucked under her arm.

"C'mon! Jeep's right out-"

A low moan from the front door had her spinning around. A large man filled the door frame, the thin tank top he was mostly wearing showing off arms meant for lifting and pulling things many pounds heavier than either woman. His rheumy, watery eyes were focused on Sera and Patricia. A sudden, cracking blow to the front window spoke of other threats beyond his massive frame.

_Shitshitshit!_ Grabbing Patricia's wrist, Sera holstered one of her pistols and jerked the Hooligan loose from her belt as she whirled to race down the hall and past the kitchen. "Backdoor!"

Shouldering the solid door open, she took down two walkers by the back steps with the curved pike at the back of the steel bar. Patricia stumbled down the steps, nearly pitching them both onto their stomachs in the dirt. Straightening, Sera made for the side of the house, only to draw herself up short when walkers began pouring at them from around the Jeep.

"Back! Back!" Pushing Patricia behind her, she attempted to make it around the house to the sound of Daryl's bike.

A surprised shriek was Sera's only warning before the slightly callused hand was ripped from her own. The older woman's scream was of both terror and pain. The walker chewing its way through her shoulder had been a young woman, her Piggly Wiggly smock bloody and torn.

"Oh, God!" One hand reached out to Sera even as walkers poured from the house and around the sides. "Please!"

Refusing to think about what she was about to do, Sera leveled the Beretta in her right hand at the woman and squeezed the trigger. Spinning to the less populated left, Sera sprinted away from her beloved Jeep.

_Daryl. Get to his bike. Runrunrun. _

It wasn't until she cleared the rear of the house that three things became abundantly clear: Hundreds of walkers were now stumbling around the farmhouse and barn. The taillights glinting down the road were not from Daryl's bike. And, because of the position of the house and her car, no one would know she hadn't left.

Having run as these truths became clear to her, Sera now found herself skirting the back side of the proper yard, a small crowd of walkers roiling and twisting around each other as they attempted to reach her warm, living flesh. Jerking to her left, she ducked into the trees and prayed no clouds obscured the moon. The woods were still and silent in front of her, the occasional rabbit or squirrel fleeing the oncoming horde alongside Sera's swift footfalls.

Knowing the meeting point would be south of her, she continually tried to turn in that direction. With each close call of grasping hands and gnashing teeth, it became more and more clear that the walkers had spread out and were between her and the highway. Knowing that she would become exhausted quickly if she was forced to fight her way through, she decided to turn and run deeper into the thickening woods. It would be better to find somewhere to wait it out until morning when there was a better chance of seeing the others.

It was a solid hour of running later that she caught sight of a wooden platform high over her head. Nothing but silence had been at her back for nearly fifteen minutes, but she refused to look around. _Looking's a death sentence. Just move. _Wooden slats had been nailed into the tree, the universal semi-permanent ladder system for treehouses everywhere, and she quickly pulled herself up.

Leaden legs refused to bear her weight once she reached the flat, unoccupied surface, and Sera collapsed in exhaustion. The moans of the dead her only company.


	30. Morning After

The old Chevy truck bounced over debris and cast off garbage as its brakes squealed to a stop beside the traffic snarl that had brought Rick's group to his farm. The old man's hair was as grey as the dawn when he shouldered the door open and stepped down onto the pockmarked asphalt. Scanning his eyes over the ruined, already decaying cars, Hershel sighed deeply as the driver's door opened and Rick came to stand beside him.

"You sure they'll come here?"

Rick nodded. "It's our only landmark. They'll come."

As he finished speaking, a station wagon rumbled over the grooved shoulder opposite them. Maggie and Beth were out of the car before it was in park, running to hug their father. Andrea and Glenn climbed out at a much more sedate speed, smiling at Rick to let him know they were okay.

Before the pair had crossed the grassy median, a second truck rounded the distant corner and puttered to a halt behind Glenn's car. Lori let Carl out to run to his father, following soon after to wrap her arms around his shoulders. Before long, the low rumble of Daryl's bike could be heard on the slight morning breeze.

Sophia suddenly drew away from her mother's tight embrace and looked around. "Where's Sera?"

"Maybe she's with Daryl." Lori's voice was comforting and calm, but her eyes were troubled as they met Rick's.

When Daryl reached the group, he grinned slightly as Rick came forward to clasp his hand in friendship and gratitude. As he looked over the assembled group, his blue eyes became brumous and worried. Standing, he moved to face Glenn, the last man he knew to have seen Sera.

"Where is she?" His voice was a low growl, frustration and worry drawing his face into an unconscious glower.

Glenn's skin went pale as he shook his head slightly. "I don't – I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?!" A flash of a hot rooftop and a set of bloody handcuffs danced across Daryl's mind, and he whirled to pace angrily before facing Lori. "Where the **fuck **is my wife?!"

His voice was cracking along with his heart, the space under his ribs hollow and aching. His stomach somehow managed to be dizzyingly empty and a churning morass of bile. Merle had been left alone and never returned. Would Sera face the same fate?

"She told us to meet up here, but had to wait for Patricia." Lori was speaking fast, her voice reedy and quiet with worry. "Said she'd be right behind us in the Jeep."

_I saw her leave, _Daryl's pacing was a stomping jog as he fought the shaking in his shoulders and the strange urge to cry and moved between his bike and the others. _Did she get bogged down on the way? Is she stuck somewhere?_

Refusing to think of anything more horrific happening to his petite, perfect woman, he instead focused on regulating his reactions and trying to think clearly.

"We can't stay here," Rick's voice was soft, but authoritative as it interrupted the angry man's thoughts. "We'll scavenge what we can, siphon gas for the cars, and then put as many miles between us and that horde as we can."

"Like hell we will!" Forgetting his resolve to think clearly, Daryl was in Rick's face so fast, the other man had no time to react or step away. "We're goin' to look fer my wife!"

Rick's head was shaking before Daryl was through speaking. "We can't. I won't allow the group to be separated."

"Oh, _**fuck you**_!" Motioning behind him in the vague direction of the farm. "We go back, try to track her down."

"Daryl," Andrea's voice was soft with pain and remembered loss. "She'd be here already if she could be."

Nodding, he looked over the others. "Yeah, she would."

"I'm sorry, Daryl." Rick's blue eyes were understanding, though a ribbon of granite resolve kept them level. "We need to stick together, and we need to get moving."

"You do what the hell you think you need to do." His voice was softly menacing, a dare for anyone to speak out against him. "I'm going to find my wife."

"Daryl –"

"She got left behind, just like my brother." Daryl shook his head slowly, his eyes boring into Rick's, their blue depths reflecting a sort of madness Rick had never experienced before.

"Ain't waitin' any longer, and I ain't **askin'** yer **permission**." Whirling, Daryl ripped his coat off and slung it across the road, frustrated anger building with each moment he didn't hit something. "'**M goin' to get my family**!"

"Wait!" Sophia pushed fully away from Carol and faced the angry men head on. "Take me with you. We can take the truck, I'll ride shotgun."

"Nah," forcing his voice to be calm by extreme force of will, Daryl shook his head. "You stay with yer family. I gotta go find mine."

"Don't do this!" Rick suddenly exploded, his eyes wide and angry. "Stay with us. We need you!"

Jabbing his finger in the direction of the farm, Daryl shouted through his rage. "Well, I need **her!**"

Letting his eyes slide to Glenn, standing with his arm wrapped tightly around Maggie's waist. "I ain't leavin' her behind."

The young Korean man nodded, a reluctantly understanding cast to his eyes. "Go find your ohana, man."

"Daryl!" Rick had moved between the younger man and his beat up motorcycle. "We need you with us."

"Get outta my fuckin' way," Daryl didn't want to start a war with anyone, but was more than willing to if it meant getting to Sera. "You said you went through hell to get to your wife and kid. I'll go through that **and **you if I have to."

"Rick," Hershel's voice was quiet but firm from where he stood with his girls. "You need to let him go, son."

Shaking his head, Rick reluctantly stepped out of the way.

With a final glare at Rick and a parting nod to the others, Daryl was back on his bike and speeding back toward the farm. The early morning sun set the sky awash with a tangerine glow, a breathtaking thing of beauty after a night of pain and horror. The man on the motorcycle, however, was more focused on skating around the slowly moving corpses that became more numerous with each minute he drew closer to his destination.

The farm looked much as it had the night before, though the barn was now reduced to a smoldering, charred shell. The fences were surprisingly intact, though the gardens were trampled and beyond repair. The front door of the house had been left open at some point, and a large body slowly came out onto the porch at the sound of Daryl's twin cam engine, his tank top more off than on and his distended biceps a ghastly shade of bluing grey. Daryl turned his bike to circle the yard, weaving around both fallen and upright bodies, taking care not to slow down too drastically.

As he came around the side of the house opposite the barn, he nearly lost control. There, sitting next to the house as if waiting for Sera to flounce down the stairs for a Sunday drive, was the deep green, large tired Jeep. There was no sign that Sera had been wounded while inside, its lights were off and doors closed, so he kept moving. Behind the house, he found what was left of Patricia's body, a small bullet hole visible just between her fair eyebrows.

_Must have got bogged down and been bit. _Daryl sped up and ducked his head as the big one swung a meaty hand at his face. _Sera musta made it to the trees; found a place to hole up. _

Refusing to face any other possibility, he sent dust and debris flying as he barreled down the drive, ready to begin his search.

O:O:O:O:O:

A soft growl brought Sera out of her light sleep, her brain slowly churning to life in the humid forest. When the sound came again, it was closer than the forest floor below. Sera froze. The gurgling, groaning noise was on the platform with her. When the noise came again, and her stomach gave a curious wobble, Sera could only shake her head at her own reaction to her stomach growling.

The sun was bright above the cooling canopy, its heat and orange rays telling Sera that she had slept well past noon. Her terrified run through the forest the night before, and the crash of her adrenaline running its course, left her more exhausted than was safe. Muscles and joints protested as she curled onto her side, a testament to both the exertion of the night before and to the fact that she hadn't moved at all in her sleep.

Slowly shuffling on her stomach to the edge of the wooden structure, Sera peeked over the side, only now seeing that she rested some thirty feet off the ground. No lurching, uncoordinated bodies moved on the forest floor below. No arms reached for her. When she was sure that no immediate danger existed, Sera let herself flop on her back and slowly began stretching.

Having been turned back and doubling over her own trail so many times the night before, Sera was unsure of her current location or how to return to the farm. The decision to simply keep heading in the direction she had begun in the night before came to her as she completed one yoga move and melted seamlessly into another. _I'm in Georgia, not a deserted planet. I'll eventually find a road or town, and then I'll decide what to do to find Daryl and the others._

Standing, Sera shook out her arms and legs before checking over her supplies. Having no food or water was going to present the worst of her non-walker related problems. For the walkers, she had her Hooligan at her waist, two Berettas with extra magazines, the compound bow with a dozen arrows, and two knives.

Daryl's knife was heavy in her hand, obviously meant for longer fingers and a wider palm. The air was thick, pressing on her chest and filling her lungs like molasses. Longing for her husband, for his strong arms and gruff voice, settled into her heart. All she wanted was to be back in their tent, cuddled together away from the world with one of his arms wrapped tightly around her waist and the other caging her shoulders to his chest in that possessive way of his that said quite plainly that no one would ever take her away from him.

"Oh, Daryl." Looking out into the surrounding treetops, Sera prayed to hear the loud rumbling of his bike and began to weep when her only answer was the distant calling of birds. "Where are you?"

O:O:O:O:O:O:

Daryl guided his bike along the roads surrounding the farm, parking every half hour in order to pick his way through the woods until he was driven back by a crowd of walkers. He knew Sera could run as swift as a fox when needed, and for a great many miles. That was the thought he clung to as the sun began to sink behind the distant hills and he was forced to seek shelter for the night.

_Won't do no good to get myself killed lookin' for her. _Daryl knew he was speaking the truth, but hated the idea of not being with her. The thought of Randall's group still being out there ate at him, and he knew there were others who would do her harm if given the chance. Spotting a small house just off the small country road, he judged the growing darkness with frustrated despair.

Daryl parked his bike behind the house and prepared his crossbow before easing through the unlocked back door. The cabin was very small, a kitchen area sat to his left separated from the living room by a small wooden island. Cabinet doors stood open, the lack of stench letting him know that the refrigerator had been emptied as well. The single bedroom and bathrooms proved to be as empty as the first room, and he quickly set about covering the windows and doors before retrieving his saddlebags from the bike. He'd need something to do in the coming hours, and knew the whetstone would allow him to focus on sharpening his blades for a little while.

When he opened the pack, however, he discovered Sera had left him a surprise. A Ziplock bag was filled with the protein bars she had gifted him with before. There were some little packs of peanuts like you find in gas stations. A squat jar of instant coffee with a tin cup tied to its neck drew a scoffing chuff from his chest, and he was loath to admit that tears threatened to form in the corners of his eyes.

_Suck it up, little brother. _Merle hitched his pants as he stepped out of the bathroom. _Ain't gonna do that little girl of yours any good to sit here cryin'._

"Think I don't know that?"

_Well, seems to me like you need a better plan than just drivin' around and wastin' gas you don't have._

"Think I don't know that already?"

Frustrated, he finished off his coffee and rechecked the doors, before he eased down on his back in front of the fireplace, regretting throwing away his coat so rashly. The braid on his wrist drew the colors of the flames into its twists and curves, and he slowly fingered the soft strands as he drifted off.

He dreamed of fire bright curls in the afternoon sun.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

Sera's feet sank into the rich soil of the forest floor as she hopped down from the last rung on the tree. Surveying her surroundings, she moved only when certain no walkers were close. Drawing the Hooligan from its snapped loop and drawing a deep, calming breath, she set out in the direction she had been running the night before.

She had been hiking through the forest for twenty minutes before she sighted her first walker, an emaciated and grey man missing his shirt and most of his right jaw. He scented her quickly and turned to reach for her with bloody, warped hands. This close, she could see that someone had attempted to put him down but missed the brain entirely. Her pike did not miss, and she wrenched it from his now permanently dead skull with a sucking sound and a slight frown of regret.

Ten minutes later, she jogged down a slight hill and ended up on a small gravel road. The sun now sat above the hills by only two fingers, and she knew she had to run if she were to cover any distance before it dropped beneath the horizon. Turning west, she jogged easily over the packed earth and sparse pebbles, keeping an eye on her surroundings to prevent any walkers from surprising her.

A few miles from where she started, a paved road intersected her path. Moving south, Sera began moving more quickly. The group would be waiting at the highway, and she didn't want to keep them waiting any longer than she already had. The thought of Daryl's blue eyes reflecting the glowing light of the setting sun buoyed her spirits, and she picked up her speed until she was running.

It was nearly an hour later, the sun balancing atop the hills like a star on a Christmas tree, when the highway came into sight. Drawing up quickly, she scanned the area before easing out into the open. One figure bumped between the cars, slowly making its way down the wide avenue away from her destination. Peeking around the upturned semi, it became clear that the lonely walker was to be her only company.

No one. There was no one to greet her or to offer a sip of warm, but welcome, water.

The only evidence that the group had made it at all was the discarded blue truck T-Dog had been driving. Climbing the nearest van, she stood on the roof and slowly turned in a circle. No one appeared from the tree line to call her away from the desolate road. There was silence where she longed for the roar of a motorcycle in need of a tune up.

Knowing she wouldn't reach the platform she had used the night before, and without anywhere else to go before darkness fell, Sera stood on the van until her stomach lurched and gurgled, her head spinning slightly from lack of food. The surrounding vehicles had been picked clean, though two bags of various supplies had been left in the back of T-Dog's truck along with a thick leather jacket. As she drew the jacket over her arms, she lifted the zipper for a closer inspection of the busted zipper pull before a note dropped out of one of the pockets.

'_Daryl- I'm sorry we couldn't go with you. Find Sera and then come find us. We'll miss you both. – Carol'_

Stunned, Sera managed to crawl into the cab of the truck with one of the plastic bags before she collapsed. _The group left us! They just. . . __**left**__._

_Daryl must have been __**pissed! **_Suddenly, the image of an irate Daryl throwing off his coat in a fit of rage came to mind, and the busted zipper made more sense. _So he's looking for me._

Calmed by the thought, Sera hopped out of the truck and climbed into the back of the van she had used as a lookout platform moments ago. Its tinted windows would offer better coverage than the truck's clear glass. Stretching a discarded blanket across the front seats shielded her from view should anything look through the windshield.

Shucking the coat from her back, she drew it over her chest and shoulders like a blanket. Luxuriating in Daryl's unique scent of the woods, clean sweat, and his own brand of maleness, Sera ate a jar of peanuts and a can of peaches before drifting into a restless, troubled sleep.


	31. Wish You Were Here

**Notes: The Twelve Oaks B&B is real, though not outside of the town. I've never been there, but the internet is GREAT for research. **

**I'm hoping you don't all hate me by the end of this.**

Seraphim

(2 Days AF {after farm})

Sera had waited expectantly for Daryl to make an appearance the entire first day on the highway. She fashioned two snares out of some cord she found in a broken down and bloodstained 4x4, setting them along clear animal paths in the underbrush. Gathering what supplies she could find under the sweltering Georgia sun, she took out the occasional walker along the lonely stretch of road. That evening, the hefty rabbit she caught had made a filling dinner, the leftovers saved for breakfast the next day, and she spent the evening hours wrenching the broken zipper pull from Daryl's coat and replacing it with one from a heavy, discarded Carhartt coat.

_Can't stay here too long. _Sera surveyed the small campsite.

The van had come to rest across the two lanes of westbound traffic, the left side of its fender twisted and buckled. The truck sat perpendicular to the rear of the first vehicle, and she had pulled an SUV around the nose of the van. A smaller car had been pushed across to cover a little over half the distance between SUV and truck. This worked to form a squared-off area that shielded her small fire from being seen at great distances and also narrowed down the entrance area.

_I'm still too exposed out here in the open._

After a fitful night's sleep, the cold rabbit was like rubber cement in her mouth, thick and tasteless. She reset her snares and made her way further down the highway without much interest in what she was doing. A large Home Depot truck resting on the shoulder of the road soon drew her attention, and she carefully surveyed the area around it before stepping up on the running board to peer through the windows.

_Gotta be something I can use in here._

Finding the cab empty, she checked the ignition for the keys, but they were nowhere in sight. Hoping the back would be unlocked, she hopped down and strode around the long truck to the rear. The latch holding the handle down wasn't locked, so she was able to push the small metal bar up and pull the right door open.

With a shout of surprise, Sera threw herself away from the opening and yanked her Hooligan free of its loop. Five walkers stumbled and fell from the high bed of the truck, struggling against each other and their own rotting bodies to gain their feet in an effort to reach her. Stepping forward, she was able to put the pike through the right eye of the first one standing, shoving at his chest with her foot to pry the steel free.

Spinning, she impaled a tall brunette with the flat blade, but it lodged in the woman's forehead and Sera was unable to wrench it free. The next three corpses were on their feet now, moaning and reaching out for her. Daryl's knife was suddenly in her hand, and she moved to the left to get the room needed to plant it in a large woman's ghastly blue eye. A hand, more bone and greying gristle than flesh, snagged in her hair as she ripped herself away, and Sera gasped in pain.

Turning, Sera checked her flanks to find the area empty as she moved swiftly to her camp. Snatching her bow and arrows from the hood of the truck, she nocked an arrow and let it fly. Not pausing to see the impact of the steel arrow tip, she swung to the left and loosed another well aimed shot.

It was only after the bodies were still that Sera allowed her shoulders to drop, the bow nearly clattering to the ground. Slowly returning it to its resting spot beside the quiver, she drew the gun at her left hip and moved forward a half step at a time. Assuring herself that the truck was now empty, she turned her attention to retrieving the blades left in the bodies. Taking a deep breath, Sera holstered her weapons and returned to the trailer to see what she had just fought for and won.

The boxes were stacked from the bed to the roof, helpfully labeled for the stock people to insure they went to the right department without delay. It took some shifting and moving, but Sera soon had a nice pile of tools to take with her. Socket wrenches, hammers, crowbars, and a set of screw drivers were handily stowed in a tool tote at her feet when she caught sight of something that gave her an idea.

If Daryl wasn't there by the next dawn, she would have to go looking for him. Knowing that he wouldn't leave the area without her, she knew she would have to start at the farm and work her way outward. Packing half of the contents of one box and a few items from another in with her newly acquired hand tools, Sera let herself smile.

_The farm's as good a place as any to start. _Digging a gas can and a length of hose from the truck, Sera set to work on her most unpleasant task of the day: syphoning gas. _Need to get my Jeep, anyway._

O:O:O:O:O:

The next morning dawned humid and absent of any discernible breeze. The first rays of sunlight glinted off the asphalt, its grey surface reflecting the heat up into the undercarriage of the van until Sera was forced awake with a dry, rattling cough. Knowing she wanted to get started as soon as possible, she checked the windows to make sure no walkers were close to the vehicle before she slid the door open and moved to the truck. Having filled the tank the night before, she only had to restock the three gas cans she was able to find before she readied the camp, left a sign for Daryl, and took off for the farm.

The old blue truck bounced heavily over the trash and sporadic dead body along the highway, and Sera looked forward to having Janice back. The thought of her Jeep's name brought an image of smiling hazel eyes to mind, and a pang swept through her heart. Sophia and Carl had both come a long way, though - after having heard about her father - she knew the young girl's new abilities and attitude were a revelation to the rest of the group. Sighing heavily, Sera shook her head and refocused on the task at hand.

The turn off to the Greene farm was as picturesque and idyllic as it had been weeks before, and Sera could almost believe that Daryl, Sophia, and the others would all be at the house waiting for her. A few tears worked themselves loose and made thin tracks through the accumulated dust on her cheeks. Rounding the bend, there was no doubt that death and tragedy had come calling.

The burned out skeleton of the barn was a festering, smoking scar slashed across her memories of the quiet oasis that had welcomed her so readily. The fetid stench of rotting bodies nearly choked her as she neared the house, a stark contrast to the clean country smell of wildflowers, sunshine, and livestock to which she had grown accustomed. Gone were the pretty little songbirds, replaced now by buzzards and crows feasting on the dead.

_Focus, little girl. _Sera nodded at her father's familiar words. _Plan your work and work your plan._

Only three walkers were still visible, and none shuffled between her and the Jeep still sitting quietly beside the house. Keeping an eye on her company, Sera topped off Janice's tank before syphoning what was left in the truck. It took longer than she anticipated, and she was forced to take down the portly, dead version of Colonel Sanders when he drew too close.

The two gas cans were stowed snugly in back and her new supplies added to the old before she was forced to put a blade through another man's skull. Standing on top of the Jeep, Sera left a quick note for Daryl in case he came there. Sliding into the driver seat and forcing herself to go through with it, she left the farm for the last time.

The rest of the morning proved to be uneventful. It was also completely unproductive, with no sign of Daryl or the others. By the time Sera pulled off the main road to watch a fitful summer storm blow over and allowed herself to stop and nibble a bit of stale puff corn for lunch, she had come to the conclusion that she was going about the search all wrong.

If she was moving, and Daryl was tracking her or just scouring the area for signs, she was doing more damage by circling around.

_If you're ever lost, _(now her mother offered wisdom) _find a spot and stay there. It's easier for people to find a still target. Well, people other than your daddy. That man could track a mosquito if he had a mind to._

Sera nodded to herself and wiped her hand on her pants before lowering the window a few inches. _I need to find a place to hunker down and wait. Daryl's at least as good as Daddy. He'll find me._

While the farm had been compromised, Sera knew it had been the gunshots which had brought the horde of cannibal dead down upon them. If she could find a smaller place that was decently defensible, she should be able to get by for the time being. With that in mind, she finished the dry cheesiness and jumped out to leave another sign for her husband before continuing over the rougher gravel terrain of the rutted country lane.

DARYL

(Two days AF)

A hollow thump echoed through the room, and Daryl rolled over restlessly in his sleep. The sound came again and again until his growled threateningly under his breath. He **hated **when people messed with the controls on the stereo and made it sound like everyone was singing from inside a tin can. He was about to shout at Merle to turn it down, that they had work in the morning, when reality seeped into his memory and he sat up with a start.

Something was smacking against the front door, a low moan leaking through the small gap left by poorly installed hinges. Rolling to his feet, he hurried to the window in a crouch to peer through a hole in the heavy wool blanket he had hung the night before. A male walker was responsible for the noise, his plain brown suit and tie was ripped but still somehow managed to be boring and uninteresting in every way. The same could not be said for the other figures slowly making their way through the early morning fog.

Judging by her deep brown roots, the buxom young woman stumbling over the roots and debris of the small front yard had been a blonde for a few weeks before the outbreak. Now, her unnaturally bright locks swept down to barely brush her naked breasts. The deep purple nightie she wore was ripped down the side, her decaying ribcage exposed. Sticks, leaves, and dirt clung to the tattered, blackened muscle and gore left open to the air.

A boy fumbled forward behind the woman, his sandy blonde hair dripping with the deep brown blood of the newly turned. His face still held the cherubic roundness of youth, though his mouth and cheek had been bitten and ripped along the right side, and Daryl felt a pang of regret for the life that would never truly be lived. Even twenty feet away, a deep dimple was clearly visible on the left as he curled what remained of his ruined upper lip and growled in hunger. As he watched, more shadowy forms appeared among the trees, drawn by the sounds of the others.

Not waiting around for their racket to bring an entire herd down on the cabin, Daryl quickly gathered his belongings and slipped out the back door. His bike drew the attention of the growing crowd of walkers, though he moved too quickly for them to pose too much of a threat as he sped around the building and onto the street. Deciding to start at the small town and work his way toward the farm, Daryl swung his bike to the east, away from the highway.

Seraphim

(Same bat time, same bat channel)

For two hours, Sera drove through the Georgia countryside, leaving signs at each turn. Slowly, the two lane road became more populated by houses than fields and trees as Sera drew nearer an unknown town. Cresting a small hill, the first building that caught her attention was a soaring clock tower, its domed roof a gleaming black in the afternoon sun. _Welcome to Historic Downtown Covington, Georgia _read a tasteful sign to the right, and Sera slowed to a stop.

While the bulk of town was laid out in front of her, there was a small, obviously private, drive to the left with a sign declaring it to be _The Twelve Oaks Bed and Breakfast _in sweeping calligraphy. Knowing that the town itself would be more likely to hold walkers, Sera quickly directed the Jeep away from the town square. The pale gravel crunched merrily under her tires, and Sera couldn't help but gasp when the manor came into view.

The three story house with its dormer windows and extended colonnade was something out of a southern belle's fairytale. It rose as stately and graceful behind the heavy wrought iron fence as a debutant at her debut, its white paint as pristine as a virgin's veil. Sera strapped on her weapons before leaving the relative safety of the car to survey the fence and look for a way in.

To the left of the main gate, there was a smaller door meant for foot traffic, and a picturesque cobblestone walk beyond. It was as simple as lifting a pin and pushing to open that gate, and Sera made a note to secure it more fully after she cleared the house. While it was an enormous place, she knew it would also be very secure from the outside world.

Deciding the loss of ammo was worth not being forced to rely on her bow or risking running into a crowd of walkers with only her knives in close quarters, Sera drew her Berettas and jogged up to the front door. Finding it locked, she moved around the bottom floor in hopes of finding an unlocked window. There were two cars parked in the rear parking area, but there was no movement in either the parlor or the bedrooms on that level. It was at the back of the house, over the kitchen sink, that she finally got lucky.

The window slid open easily, and Sera peeked through to make sure the room was empy before she wiggled in far enough to look around the large working area. Satisfied that she was alone in the room, she let herself in and shut the window behind her. Her well-worn boots were silent on the perfectly tiled floor as she moved first to the butler's pantry and then through the dining room. The rest of the bottom floor likewise empty, she soon found herself in the foyer, looking up the sweeping staircase.

Keeping herself as still as possible, Sera focused on her hearing, letting the sounds of the house wash over her. For several seconds there was nothing, and then a soft bumping came from somewhere overhead. As she listened, a quiet rattle seemed to answer the first sound. Shaking her head and rechecking that the safety was off on both guns, Sera followed the sounds of the nonverbal conversation being held above her.

"Okay girl," she kept her back to the wall and trotted up the stairs. "Get through this, bring the car in, and then you can sleep."

The bumping was coming from a door to the left of the stairs, the rattling from within a room on the right.

Resisting the urge to just ignore them – they were obviously trapped, after all – she holstered the gun in her left hand before gently grasping the knob. Drawing another breath and letting it out, Sera forced her hand to be steady as she turned the cut glass bobble and letting the door open a crack. Stepping back, she waited.

Thin, grey, peeling fingers wrapped around the edge of the oak, drawing the door slowly inward. A well-appointed older woman gazed at her with filmy blue eyes before she bared her teeth in an almost silent snarl. Her tasteful jewelry twinkled in the afternoon light as a single 9mm round ripped its way through her brain. Finding the rest of the room empty, Sera pivoted to the door across the hall.

Following the same procedure with that door, Sera waited patiently for any movement from inside. When there was only the sound of metal clinking, Sera used the side of her foot to ease open the door. A choking sob punched out of her lungs, and she fought to keep herself upright.

A boy in his early teens had been chained to the old fashioned radiator. The body of his mother lay crumpled on the floor in front of him, her chest and arm completely without flesh and eaten down to the bone. The father, still wearing a tasteful polo shirt with his khaki pants, rose from the bed behind them to snarl hungrily and trudge forward in that stumbling way of the walkers.

Sera felt a twinge of regret for the man he used to be as she put him down, but knew that he was no longer a loving father or understanding husband. Growling and struggling against his bindings, the boy reached tattered arms toward her, ripped and torn nails fighting to find purchase in her living skin. Not bothering to hold in her tears and horror at the idea of what she was going to be forced to do, Sera came to stand as close to him as she could, forcing herself to take the last two steps to insure that she would not miss.

The bullet went cleanly through his eye, existing through the rear of his skull along with decaying, blackened brain matter and blood. Thick chunks of the viscera clung to the wall behind him. Sighing, Sera was just beginning a prayer for the souls of the family when she turned and was sent to the floor with a shriek of surprise and fright, her gun falling to the hardwood floor with a pronounced _thunk_.

The mother's eyes were open, blinking at her maniacally. One hand had wrapped around Sera's ankle as the younger woman had stood over her unmoving, breathless body. Now, she struggled to turn over as Sera wrenched her leg away and crab walked away until her back hit the leg of the long, polished table behind her.

The walker was over now, her lungs and stomach pressing against exposed ribs and something vile dripping through the cage of bone to pool and soak into the wood below. The smell was nearly unbearable, and Sera clamped a hand over her nose and mouth in an attempt to breath. Daryl's knife was in her hand unbidden, and she quickly leaned forward to drive it through the skull of the ghoulish figure making its way to her prone form.

Snatching up her fallen firearm and fleeing the room, Sera shut the door firmly behind her. Knowing she had the rest of the house to get through, and a Jeep that needed to be brought inside the gate before nightfall, she soon collected herself enough to move on.

"C'mon Catchfly," Sera imagined what Daryl would say to her and drew strength from even the memory of his gruff, protective love. "Let's get this done."

Daryl

(Day 5, AF)

Daryl woke up with nothing to show for his efforts beyond an aching lower back and the taste of stale gasoline in his mouth. The bike had run out of gas twice during his scouring of the town, and he had been forced to syphon some from deserted farm trucks and cars. Riding the bike for so long had caused a series of knots to form in a tight line just above the waist of his worn out cargo pants.

Now, he pulled himself down from the hayloft in which he had slept the night before and, at a loss as to what else to do or where to look, prepared to set out for the highway. The idea that Sera was most likely dead had wormed into his mind at the beginning of his search, and now throbbed in his frontal lobe like a diseased, pulsating tumor. Only the thought of Sophia and Carol – the only ones left who considered him family – kept him from simply driving away.

_I'll go to the highway. See if they left word of which way to go. _Fingering the braid on his wrist, Daryl dreaded the day it would eventually rot and fall away into nothing.

The trip to the spot beyond the traffic snarl took hours longer than he anticipated, and he slowed to a stop just as the sun was beginning its decent. A small herd of twenty walkers had blocked the most direct path, their hands and teeth full of the family they had just pulled from a four door coup, and he had been forced to double back and circle around. Spotting the deep maroon van that marked the beginning of the open road, Daryl swept his eyes over the asphalt for the old, blue truck he knew would be left behind.

It was gone.

Frowning darkly, he eased his bike to a stop alongside a car that had been moved to help form a protective square of steel and rubber on the highway. A small pile of walker bodies had been stacked beside the road, their wounds clean and precise. Seeing the small, long cold campfire just outside the sliding door of the soccer mom express, he drew a knife and edged around the van. Using the handle of his knife, he knocked quietly against the fiberglass shell.

When no one answered the summons, he quickly opened the door and sighed heavily when nothing moved in response. A small pile of trash had been left in the corner, and he was a little disappointed to see that his leather coat was gone, but there was little else to go on.

He turned to move back to the motorcycle when a flash of deep red on the ground drew his attention.

_What the hell?_

It was a flower.

Someone had used spray paint to sketch out a large, nearly scarlet flower on the road in front of the stalled and abandoned cars. Each of its five petals was nearly two feet long, with small white dots circling the center. As nothing about this new world screamed 'arts and crafts', there **had **to be a reason for its being there.

_Why would someone paint a flower on the ground? . . . Catchfly! _

The air was suddenly as thick as mashed potatoes, his throat fighting to draw it into his lungs. The pretty red petals for which he had named his fire-haired wife would not have been placed there randomly. _She's alive!_

Below the flower was a single word that had him sprinting the few yards to his bike. 'FARM' had been spelled out in white, and his ribs ached as he made for the only place she could have meant. His wife was alive, and his heart was slamming in an effort to both make up for the hours it had wasted and to punish him for thinking she was gone in the first place.

While the farm was empty of any living people, and held many reminders of what had once been, Daryl was far too interested in the truck sitting empty beside the house to care about the barn or the fallen walkers. Sera's Jeep was gone, another flower painted above where it once sat and two walkers sporting holes in their skulls. A spiral had been painted next to the catchfly, and he was embarrassed at how long it took him to decide it meant that she would be searching the area.

Daryl scowled darkly at the growing dusk. He would have to wait until morning to begin his search anew. Leaving the farm, he returned to the shack where Hershel had once removed a bullet from Sera's leg.

_Rest up, baby brother. _Merle sank down into the empty chair across from where Daryl sat sharpening his blades in the dark of night, recalling the story of a small orange fish eating a sandwich. _Yer girl's out there countin' on ya._

"Not gonna be out there alone for long."

A wheezy, phantom laughter drew a smile from Daryl as he thought of what he would do to Sera first.

As it would turn out, he would have to wait much longer than he had anticipated.

The next morning, he set out with renewed vigor. Slowly spiraling out from the farm, he made a painstaking search of every road he came across. Each bit of asphalt or gravel was inspected for some sort of sign that she had been there, any dead walker was examined to see if the fatal shots were familiar at all. Late that afternoon, as the sun was beginning to make its way behind the trees, he saw it.

A large catchfly was painted on the road, an arrow pointing him down a dirt and gravel country lane. Grinning in triumph, he began to guide his bike down the rutted stretch, and was nearly ripped from the seat by a tall young man with one arm and a missing ear. Ducking and swerving, he managed to avoid disaster but caught sight of something that sent ice through his veins.

The dirt road was choked with walkers, stumbling over the ruts and each other. Cursing at the realization that he would have to find another way, he repeated the name of the road over and over in his mind as he sought a place to sleep for the night. He would have to circle around and hope to find the other end.

Seraphim

(Nearly two weeks AF)

Having cleaned the house from the top of the gable to the bottom of the basement, Sera sat in the enclosed porch and looked out over the expansive lawn, knowing the entire thing was surrounded by tall iron bars. It had taken two days, but she finally found the keys to the front gate and brought the monstrous vehicle inside and around to the garage. Now, she sat gazing up at the bare sliver of moon peeking through the late afternoon clouds, hoping that the signs and messages she had added to the area would soon lead Daryl to her.

Staying still, preparing the house, and waiting for Daryl was beginning to feel unbearable. Being safe and comfortable in such a large, opulent house also felt selfish when she knew the others were probably nowhere near as lucky. Cleaning had always been her reaction to stress, but even that was officially unnecessary now that she had finished mopping the floors.

_Hell, the last time I looked at a moon like this, it was from the ledge of a fire tower while I complained about not having any chocolate during my period the week before!_

Snorting, Sera stood to go inside when something niggled at the back of her mind. Something about that last thought was significant, but she couldn't quite place what or why. Shaking her head to clear her mind, she went through the back door to finish cleaning the squirrel she had taken down in the back yard that afternoon.

She had reached the kitchen and was thinking about what to put with the meat when the floor dropped out of her world and the dead animal hit the stainless steel of the sink with an unheard _splat_. Forcing air thick with uncertainty into her lungs, Sera counted.

Then she counted again.

Throwing herself across the room, Sera tripped over her own feet twice as she rushed for the pantry she was using as a storage closet. She had visited the small drugstore in town the week before, putting down two walkers before sweeping all the feminine products into a large trash bag without much thought. Now, she dumped it all on the floor in search of the pretty blue and white box she had seen days before but thought extraneous, if not a bit humorous.

"Oh, God. Oh, God." Finally grasping what she needed, Sera ran for the small first floor bathroom. "Ohgodohgodohgod."

Three minutes of reading over the enclosed paper later, a tiny digital hourglass stopped blinking. Looking at the display imbedded in the stick, Sera sniffled and tried to force back tears.

"Pregnant, 2-3." _Two to three weeks pregnant? How? When?_

A clear, sunny afternoon ending with her wearing Daryl's boxers flittered into mind. Wrapping shaking arms around her stomach, Sera curled into herself and wept.


	32. Kiss Me

**I hope this makes up for all the bad of the last few chapters!**

"**Syrup and Honey" by Duffy and "Kiss Me" by Ed Sheeran for the SCENE**

Daryl – Flashback

Daryl had been forced to seek shelter the day he found Sera's first trail marker, a crowd of walkers moaning and stumbling in the late afternoon sunlight along the designated route. It was nearly twenty minutes later when he found a small, poorly paved road that ran roughly parallel to the gravel lane Sera had traveled. Pushing on for as long as he dared, he was eventually forced to seek shelter. The sun had been setting in a riot of orange and red when he found another empty cabin in the Georgia countryside.

The structure itself was a good, solid, heavy timber construction, the doors were thick and the windows whole. Moving through the rooms quietly, Daryl was forced to dispatch a walker who had once been an elderly man. Dragging the body outside, he brought his saddlebags in with him and secured the house before moving to the single bedroom at the rear. Barricading the door with a dresser, he hung a blanket over the window and lay down with his feet against the door in order to get a few hours of sleep.

The next three days were spent within the grey, peeling walls of the cabin, with much of that being withstood sitting on the floor of the bedroom.

A herd of walkers had stumbled up to the property and slowly ambled along; occasionally inciting a frenzy when one would bump into another and send the others into a violent tumult at the perceived sounds of dinner. Forced to remove his boots after his continuous pacing drew some unwanted attention, Daryl padded back and forth in his hole-filled socks between repairing crossbow bolts and sharpening knives. He eventually tried his hand at sewing a new hole in his pants, but hated how his clumsy work looked next to the dainty stitches Sera had worked.

When night finally fell without a chance to continue his journey, he would sleep fitfully, rousing at every bump or creak in the house or on the porch.

The morning of the fourth day dawned crisp and bright, the promise of a clear day in the air. Running low on packed food, and with the need to get back on the hunt burning through his veins like bad moonshine, Daryl suited up and prepared to leave. Knowing he wouldn't have time to reload the crossbow, he left it slung across his back and looped the saddlebag over his shoulder.

Easing the front door open, he trailed his eyes over small bit of grass and into the trees. Seeing nothing, he pulled the door firmly closed behind him to insure anyone else seeking refuge would have an empty cabin to greet them and kept his steps light as he jogged to the black, dented motorcycle. As he positioned the leather pouches on either side of the bike's rear fender, a familiar shape stepped out of the woods in front of him.

The large walker that had been at the farm the first time Daryl returned to look for Seraphim did not pause. His arms, nearly ridiculously showcased in a thin strapped tank top, had ripped and split along the tops of his biceps. Hunks of thick, corded muscle hung from the gaping holes to dribble thick globs of coagulated blood onto the leaves and dirt below.

"Ain't you just an ugly sumbitch?" Thinking to put the walker down, Daryl raised his knife and began to move forward until nearly a dozen other bodies began to step into the open. "Shit."

Straddling the bike, Daryl revved it to life and flew past the gathering crowd.

The next week was full of the same problems. He would drive for a small amount of time, find a road that looked promising, and scour it for signs that Sera had come that way. Eventually, he would be forced to stop and find shelter either due to walkers or to the setting of the sun. Either way, he would bag a squirrel or rabbit to prepare hastily before getting some very interrupted and unsatisfying sleep. There were many days wasted due to him being forced to stay still and unseen in a house, on a tree platform, or (once) in a little girl's treehouse.

There were bloody footprints tracked across the painted catchfly now in front of his bike, and Daryl almost thought to take another side track. Remembering the fight to get back on the trail, he shook his head and spit disdainfully on the ground. As the flower rested in the middle of the road just past where she would have turned right, he knew she was headed further east.

_East it is, little girl. _

After an hour of staying on the same road, he began to worry that he had missed something. A small, genteel Southern town sat in front of him, the flowery sign welcoming him to Covington, Georgia. Knowing Sera wouldn't venture too far into any town alone, he slowly turned the bike around. A flash of red at the side of the road caught his eye, and he squinted in the bright afternoon sun.

On a white sign advertising a bed and breakfast, nearly hidden in the shadows of the quickly encroaching trees, was a catchfly. The lane was wide and had once been very well kept, though the trees and weeds were now growing closer on either side. With nothing else to go on, Daryl eased over the lip of the asphalt and began a slow journey down the drive.

The house was like something out of a movie, with brilliant white paint and huge columns. What he could see of the ten foot fence was thick and made of black wrought iron. From where he sat, he counted eight walkers obstructing his path and crowding the detailed gate. As Daryl watched, one of them fell immobile. His fingers were twisting the key in the bike when two of the walkers split off to turn in his direction and he caught a flash of brilliant red hair in the sunlight.

"Hey!" Daryl hadn't meant to make a sound, but it came anyway, drawing the two walkers to him and away from the others.

Hastily loading the crossbow, he sent a bolt through the eye of what had once been a well-built black man. The second, a small teen who could have been any one of the boys he grew up with, was no match for a well-placed machete blade. Ripping it free, he spun to see that only three more remained, the pile in front of the gate having grown while he was distracted.

There, on the other side of the heavy bars, was Sera.

Keeping his eyes locked on her diminutive form, almost afraid she would disappear like a blown dandelion puff if he were to look away, he swung the long blade again and again. The first slash of the wickedly sharp steel took off the top of a walker's head, though he hardly noticed. He was too busy watching Sera shove a pole through the eye and into the skull of a tall, older man. As the body crumpled, their eyes met across the distance. Shoving the blade through the underside of the last walker's jaw, he growled fiercely as the tip came through the top of its head.

While he was occupied, Seraphim had gone for the gate. Fumbling with the locks, she didn't bother to fight back the tears of relief as she pulled the extra chain free and shoved at the gate with her shoulder. Using the door to move the bodies, she had an opening wide enough for Daryl's bike and looked up just in time to see him jerk the wicked looking blade from the last walker's skull.

As he looked up, the trees and bodies disappeared. His blue eyes were all she could see. Three halting steps brought her close enough to hear his rasping breaths.

"Are you real?" Her voice shook with fear and a joy she refused to acknowledge until she was certain the man before her wasn't some delusional vision.

Lightning fast, his empty hand was on the back of her neck, and she was jerked flush against his body as he kissed her harshly. There was no seduction, no gliding of his tongue along her lips. This was a hard push of his lips against hers, relief and anger pouring out of him on a wave of happiness braced and propelled by his agitation and fear.

"Feels real," Daryl tugged her braid to be sure.

Pushing the sob building in her chest down by force of will alone, Sera jerked her head at his bike. "Let's get that inside the fence and then get up to the house."

Seeing the wisdom in her words, Daryl forced himself to release her. Pushing his bike through the gate, he waited as she wrapped the chains around the bars and locked the heavy padlocks. There was an almost nervous air around the beautiful redhead, and Sera wrapped her arm around his waist as they struggled under the weight of the bike and their own shared relief.

"How many are with you?" Daryl was doing mental gymnastics. He was trying to build up patience to deal with strangers, undressing Sera with his mind, wondering if the house was safe enough, vowing revenge on anyone who had messed with her in his absence, and trying to determine how long he was going to have to wait to get her alone.

Sera shook her head. "No one."

"Huh?"

"I've been alone this whole ti –"

Daryl had stopped listening after "alone", and he barely shoved the kickstand down before his mouth met hers. Sera whimpered deliciously, and Daryl grasped her firmly by the thighs to draw her legs up around his hips. One arm around her for balance, Daryl strode purposefully up the steps and through the door, throwing the deadbolts after shutting it behind him.

Pulling back to look at her, he cupped her cheek and ran his thumb through the tiny trail left by a tear. He frowned at the dark smudge left in its wake. "Damn."

"What? Baby, what's wrong?"

Shaking his head he sat her down and forced himself to step away. "'M all dirty."

"Do you really think I give two shits about some normal ol' dirt?" When he grimaced at the pulling in his shoulders from a simple shrug, Sera smiled up at him before twining her fingers in his and leading him to the grand staircase. "C'mon."

When they reached the room Sera had taken as her own, the small, white plastic cylinder sitting on the nightstand shone like a beacon. She knew she would have to tell him before anything could happen between them. It wouldn't be fair to her to leave that out.

"Daryl," taking a deep breath, Sera steeled her nerves and turned to look up at him. "I need to tell you something."

Daryl tensed and grasped the crossbow strap across his chest, a thousand scenarios running through his mind. "What? Did someone hurt you?"

"No, no. Nothing like that." Sera tried to smile through her sudden nervousness. "It's a good thing. Well, I think it is, anyway."

"The hell you goin' on about?" Daryl hated being confused, and he scowled darkly.

"Remember that afternoon? Before the farm, at the tower?"

Daryl's ears slowly turned pink. "Yeah, I 'member."

"Well. . . " Squeezing her eyes closed, Sera drew another deep breath before meeting his troubled eyes with her own. "You're going to be a father."

"What?" He was a bit confused. Never in the history of his life had the idea of having a baby crossed his mind.

"I'm pregnant." Picking up the little piece of plastic, Sera showed him the just barely visible results of her test two days before. "It's the only one I had, so I couldn't recheck, but my period has never failed to show up before."

Daryl's face paled under the thick layers of dirt and grime. Blinking rapidly, his mouth opened and closed a few times. Snapping his jaws shut, he turned on his heel and left the room.

Sera listened to him thunder down the stairs and then slam the front door. She moved to the window and drew the heavy brocade curtain back. Stomping out into the grass, he paced between the porch and the small garden shed before spinning suddenly and punching the shed's wooden siding. Whipping the crossbow from his back, he loaded a bolt. Without glancing back at the house, he strode out of sight.

"Well, that could've gone better." Nodding to herself, Sera went to collect the buckets she used to heat water for a bath. "At least the stove is gas."

Knowing her husband needed to sort a few things out, and that he would return when he was ready, she went about getting things ready for him upstairs. Using the heavy, copper bottom soup pots on the stove, she warmed the water to boiling. The dumbwaiter in the corner of the kitchen was able to lift three at a time up to the second level hallway through the use of ropes and pulleys.

Sera would heat thee pots of water, place them on the heavy wooden platform of the dumbwaiter, and lift them up to the second floor before filling three more pots and placing them on the stove. While those were left to heat, Sera would jog up to the second floor and lug the pots from the hall into her room where the tub sat to the left of the fireplace. Cold water would flow through the pipe without a hitch, and was used only to bring the water to just below scalding.

O:O:O:O:O:O:

Daryl frowned darkly and ripped the bolt from the limp body of his third squirrel. _I can't be a god damned DADDY. For shit's sake, it's not like I have any clue what to do with a kid._

He was stomping around in the back lawn, ranting in his mind about having no experience with children.

Only, Daryl knew that to be a lie.

He had always been in charge of the younger cousins, keeping them in line and making sure they stayed out of everyone's hair while they drank and played cards. He had always secretly liked kids, but hadn't dared show it for fear of ridicule from either Merle or their father.

He also knew that protecting Sera was something he would always do, so that wouldn't mean any extra work or worry for him in that department. And she would be an excellent mother. _I can learn._

Having calmed his nerves through movement and hunting, and having caught enough meat to keep them fed for a bit, he turned his attention to his surroundings. The tall fence circled the entire property, enclosing the house, garage, a small garden with gazebo, and a little pond. There were too many doors and windows for his liking, but it would do for the time being, and he chuckled as he imagined the looks on the faces of the owners if they ever saw him stomping around in their pristine home with his muddy boots and ripped pants.

Cleaning his catch and leaving the meat in the sink, Daryl went in search of Sera.

Soft humming guided him from the stairs to the room they had entered nearly an hour before. The sight before him drew him up short and stole his breath.

Sera had built a fire in the grate, warming the room against the growing chill of the evening. The light played with the strands of her braided hair, and Daryl wanted it unbound and wild so he could see the fire dance around her angelic face the way it had the first night they had met. The heavy, clawfoot tub that sat beside the fire was steaming invitingly, and Sera sat on the side, trailing her fingers through the water as she hummed to herself.

"What's this?" His voice was gruff, too loud in the rich cream and mahogany room.

Looking up in surprise, Sera smiled and rose from her spot to meet him just inside the door. "I drew you a bath."

Daryl frowned. He had been outside throwing a fit like a baby while she had been doing nothing but thinking of him. "Shower'd work."

"There's no hot water."

Only then did Daryl notice the small stack of pots sitting next to the nearly full tub. "You carry all those up here?"

"There's a dumbwaiter in the hall."

Shaking his head, he ran a grime covered hand through his hair, making the greasy strands stick up at odd angles. "Shouldn't be liftin' shit like that in your condition."

"In my…?" Sera smiled softly and came to stand in front of him, slowly working the buckles on his holsters free and laying them on the small reading table. "I'm pregnant, baby, not disabled."

"Not good to lift heavy shit when you're pregnant, though."

"Only when you get further along. I'm not some wilting flower that's gonna buckle under the weight."

By now, Sera had all his weapons removed and was working the snaps on his vest open. Wrapping her wrists in his callused fingers, Daryl stopped her movements and gazed into her eyes for a brief moment before dropping heavily to his knees. Releasing her hands, he pushed the shirt covering her stomach up and stared at the still flat expanse of her muscular abdomen. With another fleeting look at Sera's face, he leaned forward and pressed his lips softly to the flesh just above her navel.

Giggling, Sera drew him back to his feet and kissed him thoroughly, her tongue invading his mouth in a slow, erotic slide. "Come on; let's get you in the tub."

Sera pressed her lips to his throat as she slid his vest and shirt from his shoulders, but could tell from the tensing in his arms that he didn't want her too close to him while he felt so filthy. Smiling, she let him work the rest of his clothes off while she carefully placed his vest over the back of a chair. The rest of the clothes were left in the corner of the room.

Daryl stepped into the tub, the water just hot enough to make sitting down uncomfortable until his skin adjusted. The muscles of his back, shoulders, and legs responded by suddenly going lax. He groaned in deep appreciation. The dull clank of metal drew his attention, and he spoke without opening his eyes.

"Where're you goin', girl?"

"Gonna take these downstairs and get some shampoo that doesn't smell like flowers." Pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, Sera giggled. "You just soak for a bit."

"Be careful."

Pausing on her way to the door, Sera shook her head. "Is this going to be a thing with you now?"

"Prob'ly." He knew he was being a bit overprotective, but refused to feel bad about it. _A man's gotta protect his woman. 'Specially if she's carryin' his kid._

Sera hurried down to the kitchen where she put another pot of water on to boil and found the squirrel in the sink. Chuckling, she put them in another pot to slow cook and added some salt and pepper along with the wild carrots she had gathered days before. That task finished, she retrieved some of the more neutral smelling shampoo, soap, and a washcloth from her bag of supplies. Putting the now scalding pot in the dumbwaiter, she sent it up and then jogged up the stairs.

Daryl hadn't moved, his head resting against the slightly raised end of the tub. Sera let her fingers trail over the surface of the water before hoisting the stockpot and slowly adding its contents to the rest. When Daryl opened his eyes, she smiled, happy to be taking care of him.

Filling a pitcher with water, Sera motioned him forward. "Lean up."

When he followed direction, she shielded his eyes and upended the pitcher over his hair. She added shampoo and smiled when he leaned into her massaging fingers. After making sure his hair was absent of any dirt, she rinsed thoroughly and moved on to the soap and cloth.

As she cleaned his forehead, Daryl leaned back and watched her through half lidded eyes. "Can wash m'self."

"I know," Sera didn't stop her ministrations as she spoke, and Daryl let her have her way.

Sera moved from face to neck, then trailed the soapy cloth over his shoulders before sliding the suds over his spine and along his ribs. The scars were more visible than she could ever remember them being, and she pressed soothing kisses to each one before letting her tongue play over the stylized angel and demon tattoo decorating the right side of his back. Daryl groaned low in his throat and leaned back again.

When Sera rinsed the piece of cloth and added a fresh lather of soap, he slid wet hands under her t-shirt and eased it up her torso until she raised her arms and helped him remove it. Balancing on the rounded edge of the tub, she leaned forward to kiss him deeply while her slid slightly puckered fingers along her spine until they met the clasp on her bra. Flicking it open effortlessly, he pulled away to look at her as he carefully revealed what only he was welcome to gaze upon.

Reaching back, Sera flicked the drain open to release the now cool water and scooped up the towel from its resting place on the old wash stand. Holding it out to Daryl as he rose, erect and unashamed from the bath, Sera moved away. Stepping out of her shoes and socks, she made sure she had his attention as she rolled her jeans over her hips and shimmied them down to the floor before kicking them aside.

Leaving her simple cotton panties in place, she pulled the elastic from the end of her braid. Quickly finger combing her curls free of confinement, Sera got an idea. Shifting slightly, she put her back to one of the tall pillars on the footboard of the bed, her profile perfectly presented for Daryl's hungry eyes. Locking her eyes on his, she tilted her head back and arched against the mahogany in one long wave of seduction, her curls both obscuring and framing her breasts and hips.

Daryl padded silently across the floor, his towel dropping on the floor a bare heartbeat before his hands skimmed around her waist. Splaying his hands against her back, he pressed their bodies together and kissed her as deeply and slowly as possible, loving the tiny mewling sound she made in the back of her throat. Sliding his left hand into her hair, he loosed a chest rumbling growl and pressed his mouth to the base of her throat, biting and sucking hard enough to mark her darkly.

Sera felt a rush of desire as she went hot and liquid in his arms. Clinging to his biceps, she was barely able to help him work her panties down and off. Flexing her fingers, she sank her nails into the hard ridges of his muscles as she twisted her head down to put her mouth to his collarbone. When she pushed against him and began to sink to her knees, he shook his head and tried to step away.

"You do that, and this is over **real **quick."

"Nope," Sera shook her head slightly and used a hand on his chest to turn him so his back now rested against the post. "I do this, and things last **longer**."

Unable to argue with that logic, Daryl settled in to simply enjoy what she was doing. Remembering the first time she put her mouth on him, he sank his fingers deep in her curls. Sliding her hair back from her face, he was able to look down at her and watch as she pleasured him. As he drew close to his release barely two minutes later, he began directing her movements with just enough pressure that she could feel his hand on her head.

After he slid, spent, from her perfect mouth, Daryl scooped her up and kissed the bare taste of himself from her mouth. Placing her in the center of the large bed, he followed quickly, his mouth feeding at her own as he trailed his fingertips along her fragile collarbone and down to tease and twirl around the tightening bud of her nipple. When she began to arch and squirm against him in earnest, he placed open mouthed kisses down to her chest.

Replacing his fingers with lips, teeth, and tongue, he slid his hand over her ribs to squeeze her hip. He listened as her soft moans turned more needy and desperate while he directed the movement of her hips against his own. When her legs began to fall open mindlessly, he moved to rub the heel of his palm against the small bundle of nerves just above her opening.

As she began to twitch against him, Sera grasped at him blindly. "Oh, Daryl. God, I've missed you."

Daryl felt himself stir against her hip and smiled in anticipation as he propped himself up on his elbow to gaze at her face. Allowing his fingers to slide down to her weeping center, he let two of them glide into the very place she so desperately wanted them. When she would have pulled him down against her, he rebuffed her gently and only kissed her softly before going back to watching the effect he was having on her body.

"Gonna make you come just like this, Catchfly." Leaning down, he licked at the sweat along her throat, chuckling softly when she grabbed for him as he drew away. "Then, I think I'll slide me tongue in for a bit."

"Oh, God." Sera felt her excitement grow as he spoke, uncertain whether it was the words or simply his voice which affected her so.

"After that, we're going to see if I can last longer than two god damned minutes."

Daryl's self-deprecating humor coupled with his sandpaper-on-charcoal voice lit off a series of small explosions behind Sera's eyes, and she came around his fingers with an unhindered, unapologetic shout of joy. Daryl's eyes shone like the afternoon sky as he recognized that they really were truly alone for only the second time, and this was the first time with a bed under them. A wicked grin played over his lips, and he replaced his fingers with his lips and tongue.

Grasping her thighs, he held them apart as he fed at her. Sera alternatively grasped his hair, her pillow, or the bedspread under her body as her husband attempted to make up for lost time. As she shouted and gripped at his fingers, Daryl moved to position himself between her legs.

Stopping him, Sera pushed him down on his back. Straddling his hips, she positioned him easily before slowly sinking down onto his now turgid staff. Leaning forward until she found the perfect angle, she was able to lick and kiss his shoulders and chest as she rolled her hips into his.

"Jesus, Seraphim!" Daryl felt her losing rhythm as she fell apart above him, and grasped her hips to guide her through her orgasm. When her blunt little nails found purchase in his chest and she went, screaming, into another orgasm, he growled and bucked against her.

"Dare!" Moving uncontrollably, Sera met his eyes pleadingly. "I need you on top of me. God, I want you all over me!"

Yanking her down against his chest, he rolled them and began ramming into her in earnest. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her hand in his hair holding his mouth to her neck. Her legs were twined around him, ankles locked behind his back. Daryl's strong arms caged her torso, holding her flush against him.

"Baby," Sera gasped and began to quake below him. "I love your arms around me."

"Never. Gonna. Let. You. Go." Each word was punctuated by a powerful thrust of his hips, and Daryl growled in pure male satisfaction as Sera suddenly tensed and cried out as another wave of pleasure took her under. With a few more thrusts, Daryl followed her.

When Sera suddenly began crying, he didn't question it. Rolling, he simply brought her to rest on his chest and held her close. If a few of his own tears refused to be blinked away, they weren't mentioned as the reunited lovers soothed each other with assurances that they would never be separated again.


End file.
